AU1: Sea Change
by Lilac Reverie
Summary: Alternating Universes Series, Part One: How do you begin again, after your heart is crushed? How do you turn from one to another? How do you go on? Ten-B/Rose, AU.
1. Ocean Blue

_**Author's Note: **My first fanfic! Reading so many wonderful stories here convinced me to take the plunge and commit one of the stories in my head to paper. Er, pixels. I hope it pleases._

_Disclaimer: The major characters herein are owned by the BBC, of course; the minor characters are mine, especially Brennan. I don't mind if somebody else hires him, though; I'm generous and he's capable._

* * *

Alternating Universes Series, Part One

_How do you begin again, after your heart is crushed?_  
_How do you turn from one to another? How do you go on?_

**Ocean Blue**

_A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets. - Titanic_

_Bad Wolf Bay, Pete's World_

"And you, Doctor? What was the end of that sentence?"

"I love you. I always have."

She stared at him, so close. Dazzled. Wanting to believe. Then, without thinking, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him into a kiss, pent-up longing pouring out of them both and wrapping them up together.

The TARDIS door closed and she gasped and broke away, half-running a few steps towards the disappearing blue box, then stumbling to a stop as the last trace faded.

Rejected. Abandoned. The man she'd chased so far and so long was gone, forever.

Or was he?

He stepped up beside her and took her hand, which turned in his automatically, returning the clasp like it had a thousand times before. She turned and looked at him again. Softly, gently, he asked: "Second worst day of your life?"

A beat. Two. Then, she took a deep, shaky, but determined breath and answered: "No. Just... don't let go." _Help me. Find me._

His hand instantly tightened on hers, and stayed tight. "Never." _I'm here. Right here._

A few endless moments longer, Jackie's voice came from behind, startling them both. "I do hate to interrupt, but unless one of you's got a working mobile in your pocket, we've got a long walk ahead. The nearest town's still five kilometers back down the road." She turned and started walking towards the start of the tarmac, visible further along the beach. "Come on, it's this way."

Steady, not taking his eyes from hers, he asked "Ready?"

Another deep breath, trying to glue the shards of her mind back together. "Yeah." Then, remembering, she tore her eyes away and glanced beyond him towards the base of the cliffs nearby. "But we don't have to walk." She half-turned: "Mum! MUM! We don't have to walk!" Gesturing towards the cliffs, she started towards them, not letting go of his hand. She glanced down, surprised that the sand was under her feet and not up above her waist; she felt like she was wading through molasses, clawing to be normal and move forward. _Cliff. Box. Phone. ET phone home._ She fought back a hysterical giggle.

Catching up, Jackie puffed "What? That box? That's just a weather recorder! They don't have phones or anything!"

Rose shook her head. "They do when I install 'em." Taking pity on Jackie, she added "It's not just a weather recorder, Mum, it's a surveillance post." Glancing at the gentleman helping her up the rocks, she added with a tiny wry smile, "For today, apparently." He grinned back.

They climbed over the first level of rocks and stepped up to the box, a weather-beaten, faded red wooden cube about two feet square, bolted into the cliff at eye level, with small holes drilled through the front. Rose reached up with her free hand and fiddled with the latch, then dropped the front to reveal some standard, not-too-interesting data recorders and a small camera poking out one of the holes. A quick look revealed none of it was in very good shape.

"Well," said Jackie skeptically, "I hope the phone's still working."

As if in answer, they heard a ringing coming from the back of the box. "Yup", said Rose, popping the p, "I think it is."

Reaching further in, she pressed her thumb onto a particular unmarked spot on the back wall, which proved to be a thumbprint reader. A couple of whirs and clicks later, the back dropped down to show a mobile comm set attached to the camera, along with a small video screen with a familiar face already framed.

"Snoop!" accused Rose, mock-angry. _This is Normal. Remember Normal?_

"Hey!" Pete shot back, grinning, "You're the one who installed the camera!" His voice softened. "You OK, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm all right." _I think._

"Pete?" Jackie moved into the camera angle.

"Jacks! You OK?"

"Of course I am. How's Tony?"

"Better now that his mum's home."

"But I've only been gone a few hours!" Pleased nevertheless.

"Jacks. You've been gone five days. Why do you think I'm here at Torchwood?"

"Five days!" Jackie turned to glare at their companion. "Can't you steer that bloody thing YET?"

"Oi! One, I wasn't steering. Two, five days is better than a year, isn't it?"

Hardly mollified, she turned back to the camera, but Pete broke in. "Is somebody going to explain this two Doctors thing to me?"

Rose started, "well, ..." then he cut in.

"I was created in – call it a freak accident – I'm more or less a clone of the Doctor, including all his memories and everything, but I'm half-human. And I'm staying." Period, he didn't add, but it hung on the air nevertheless.

Pete's eyes bored into him, belligerent. "Yeah? And are you going to take care of my little girl this time? 'Cause I've got to be honest, your track record there isn't too good so far."

Rose started to protest, "Dad, that's not fair!" but he squeezed her hand silent again.

"No, he's right, my track record sucks. But that changes, right here, right now." Straight at Pete, boring back. "Yes, I'm going to take care of her. From now on, she's not my first priority, she's my ONLY priority."

The two men glared at each other a bit longer before Pete grunted. "Nice words. We'll see how well you live up to them."

A bit miffed, a lot unsettled, Rose broke in again: "In the meantime, we're rather stranded here." A bit impishly: "Can I borrow your jet?"

A quick half-grin. "It's already fueling up; we'll be in the air as soon as I get there. Where's the nearest airport to you?"

"Still Bergen. 50 miles." Jackie started to react ("Fifty!"), but Rose held up a hand, stopping her. "There's a helicopter pilot flies out of there – Brennan should have the number. See if he can come pick us up."

Pete glanced away for a moment and nodded. "He's already calling him. How long is the flight – on my jet?"

"About three hours?" A guess.

"Then I'll see you in about three hours and.. " quick glance at his watch "fifteen minutes. Leave the line open for Brennan. Jacks? Love you!" And he was gone, off to the airport.

The three of them stood for a minute, waiting: one watching, quiet; one avoiding, unsure, a little embarrassed; one glowing, basking in the love of her husband. The watcher opened his mouth, about to say something – God knows what – when the tiny screen hiccuped and cleared, framing (presumably) Brennan, an energetic-looking thirty-something with _capable_ virtually tattooed on his forehead.

"All right, then. He's on another flight at the moment, but he's dropping them off in a few minutes and will be over to pick you up right after. ETA about an hour."

Rose: "Did you tell him there's three of us?"

"Yes, that's why he's dropping the other fare off first. And I already paid him, so don't let him gouge you again." Assessment of her over, he added, concerned, "You look whipped. Why don't you take some time off before you come back in? Everything's perfectly normal here."

Retroclosure. It never happened. She blinked, then nodded a little sadly. "Yeah, I think I will. See you in a few days, then. Tyler out." As Brennan nodded and reached for his own controls, she tapped her screen off and carefully – one-handedly – closed and locked up the weather box again.

He turned and looked down the beach. "An hour, then?" To Rose: "Why don't we go for a walk? Just down the beach a bit?"

She nodded. "OK. Mum?"

Jackie all but snorted at the look on his face. "Oh, no, I'm fine right here. Think I'll just sit on these rocks and watch the sea till the helicopter gets here." She smiled and moved off to find a smooth rock the right height.

The couple turned and walked slowly along the base of the cliffs, through the scattered tumbled rocks till they came to a stony ridge running into the water. She followed him over it, watching as he jumped down the other side, then turned to help her down. She landed a bit wrong and staggered against him, and he circled her waist with his free arm. (His other hand was still engaged in being Keeper of My Lady's Hand. He hadn't let go since she'd asked him not to; he just might never.)

"Sorry" she said simply, looking up at him and meeting his eyes for the fist time since they had started towards the "weather" box. _Same color. __His__ eyes. Why am I so startled?_ "I think I'm going to be a bit wobbly, now and then."

"No worries. I'll prop you up whenever you're wobbly. If you'll do the same for me." His tentative smile netted him a small one in return, but it disappeared quickly.

"It's just..." She put her free hand high on his encircling arm, and let him draw her in a tiny fraction closer, turning them both to face each other squarely. "I can't keep up. I haven't felt that way in a long time." A deep breath. "Remember when you regenerated? The first time? I mean, the first time with me?" She grimaced for the complexity of it, but he nodded, waiting. "It took me a long time to adjust to that whole thing, but I finally did. I got used to you, got used to it being you. Your face had changed, your body, even your personality, a bit. But it was still you. I adapted. And..." She smiled up, the imp back. "Truth be told, I found I liked this you better." _Understatement of the Century._ Her smile dropped before he could echo it. "But this... Two of you? I... I can't keep up."

Quiet now, intense. Wanting so much to believe, but still not quite daring to. "Is it _really_ you?"

He glanced around quickly to make sure that rock really was there, then leaned his hips back against it, pulling her close. Not quite touching, a whisper away.

Starting slowly, as if wanting to get it just right: "Back when I regenerated, the first time with you, what was it that finally convinced you I really was still me?" She shook her head, unsure. "You've never been religious before, so if you trot out something about my soul or my aura, I'm _really_ going to be disappointed." No smile. Flat joke. "OK, then. But there was some kind of continuity, wasn't there, aside from just taking up the same space?" He waited while she worked it out, staring at his shirt.

Finally, thoughtfully, she answered "I guess... it was that you remembered everything we'd done before, that you were familiar with me – and _to_ me, even though you'd changed." She looked up, then. "That's it, isn't it? You said it back there. 'Same memories, same thoughts.'"

"Yes. Same memories. Rose, it's our _memories_ that make us who we are. And I remember every single moment I ever spent with you – from the first time I took your hand" squeezing it now "in the basement of your shop and dragged you away from the Autons, to missing the end of the Earth, to seeing – and saving – your Dad, to dancing with you on the TARDIS to cheese off Jack... " He rattled off a dozen more memories, then, after the tiniest, emphasizing beat, "to spending the night huddled between rocks like these, telling you a story..."

Eyes widening, a long careful breath in. That's the one she'd been waiting for, hardly knowing it. A whisper so soft, so tentative, even he barely heard it. "Corin?"

Steady. Straight. The most important words in the history of words. "Yes. Corin."

She closed her eyes against the tears, and pulling her hand at last from his, wrapped both arms around his neck and leaned into his shoulder, burying her face in the glorious, so-familiar scent of his skin, seasoned by wool jacket. Was it different? Maybe slightly – and she'd all the time in the world now to explore that difference.

His arms wrapped around her again, and she knew she was home.


	2. Misty Grey

**Misty Grey**

_Some years before, somewhere in the Galaxy._

It had been a bitch of a day.

The TARDIS had landed, groaning, off the main square in a very small city on some nameless planet – OK, it wasn't nameless, but she couldn't remember what he'd called it, and now didn't really want to – and shuddered to silence with an ominous CLANK-rattle-clinkety-clink as something fell off somewhere and rattled into the depths. The Doctor had immediately started tearing into the ship's innards, concern all over his face, all thoughts of the sightseeing trip he'd promised Rose forgotten. It had taken him half an hour to trace the problem, then two hours scouring the shops nearby for something he could use to fix it, and another three greasy, sweaty hours installing it with the help of his trusty sonic screwdriver and a few other tools – including the sledgehammer as a last, noisy resort.

Grumpy as she was, even Rose couldn't resist his delighted, grease-smeared grin as he checked the TARDIS out again, flipping a few switches and listening to the once-again smooth, steady pulse. And when he wolfed down the small, late lunch she'd contrived in the meantime from the local market, stopping to admire the green-purple striped fruit and complementing her choices, she decided to forgive him.

By then, it was late afternoon, but he still insisted they had time to get to the famous Cardasol Cliffs to see the fantastic crystal sunset – it was only 20 kilometers away! And look, they can rent a car – of sorts – to get there and back in style. Of sorts. So off they went.

And the sunset was as mind-bendingly spectacular as he had promised, the dancing rays bouncing off the crystals in the cliffs to send rainbows charging madly this way and that like a huge flock of startled, technicolor pigeons. Would have been just that tad better if they'd thought to bring a picnic supper, perhaps with some champagne... But, nevertheless, the sun duly set and they started back, placating their complaining stomachs with thoughts of the ship's well-stocked kitchen.

And then the car broke down. CLANK-rattle-clinkety-clink.

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!"

Surely they were more than halfway back, weren't they? The town was just over that ridge, wasn't it? A short walk and they'd fall into the TARDIS still in time for a late supper, no?

Only they weren't, and it wasn't, and they didn't.

The top of the ridge, two kilometers from the car and several hundred feet up, was strewn with boulders, long ago cracked off the backbone of harder rock outcrop. Beyond the ridge was only darkness now, so long after sunset; no sign of the city. Turning around, they saw its lights off in the distance beyond the ridge on the _other_ side of the valley – far, far too far away now.

Rose collapsed in a heap, tears threatening. "I'm sorry. I just can't walk any further. I can't." She had tripped more than once on the way up, and wrenched her ankle, which was steadily growing more painful than she had wanted to admit.

It was too late, even, to try to climb back down to the car for the night. The broken ground and rolling scree guaranteed major bodily damage had they tried to descend in the dark. The Doctor poked around till he found the perfect pocket a few yards from Rose. Helping her up, he led her over, then propped her against a rock momentarily. He took off his overcoat and sat down in the pocket with his back to the rock spine, then beckoned her in to sit between his knees. After she was settled, he draped his overcoat over them both for warmth – the temperature was really beginning to drop – then for the final touch, pulled out the sonic screwdriver and buzzed it against each of the two watermelon-sized rocks at their feet till they began to glow, warming the pocket and its new temporary inhabitants.

(_This may not have been such a good idea _said a tiny voice in his head as she was shifting around getting comfortable. _Shut up_ he told it, ignoring the intriguing way her hips were moving against him. _Riiiiight_ it snickered back.)

After a bit, Rose sighed and relaxed. "I don't suppose your screwdriver could whiz us up a couple of marshmallows for this campfire, could it?"

She felt the Doctor grin behind her. " 'Fraid not. Not even a hot dog. Why do they call them that, anyway? No, don't tell me, I don't think I want to know. Hold on a tick, though." He rummaged around in his overcoat pockets and managed to come up with some biscuits and a banana, not _too_ old, which they shared. "Not much, but enough to keep from starving."

Determined not to put a damper on the night by incessant grumpiness, Rose said "It's only one night. As long as there aren't any werewolves here, we'll be fine. Kind of like camping out."

"Did you ever camp out?"

"Not really, no. The closest I ever did was once me and Mickey went down to the seashore with a group of mates and had a bonfire. With marshmallows."

"Well, sorry for the lack of marshmallows. Tell you what, though. Shall I tell you a campfire story?"

"Does it have werewolves? Or ghosts and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night?"

"Well, not precisely. But I think you'll like it anyway."

"Go on, then." She snuggled down closer under the overcoat.

"How do campfire stories start?"

"'Once upon a time'? Or you could go for 'a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away'." She giggled.

He, though, was perplexed. "Well, it _was_ long ago and far away. The constellation of Kasterborous, in fact." He paused, but she didn't react. He must not have mentioned that name to her before. Good. He went on, adopting the cadence of the born storyteller.

"In the middle of this constellation were two twin stars, endlessly circling each other in the darkness. And around these two stars, in a very complex orbit, there was a planet. Oh, it was bare, molten rock at first, all lava and gases and constant swirling winds, but it settled down at last, as planets do, and began the business of creating life.

"And oh, what life it made! Bounding oceans teeming with it, from the tiniest single-celled beasties to gigantic carsarons lifting their sail fins above the surface. And on the land, all manner of animals, crawling and running and flying about, living and eating and dying and creating more life. And plants, too, of course: tall red grasses bending in the wind on the plains, and mushy bogjams floating in the ponds, and trees with leaves of shining silver gleaming in the sunshine, reflecting the orange skies.

"And the very largest of these, the ancient grandfather trees, came to be known to the later inhabitants as corin trees. They lived for hundreds of years, soaring two hundred feet high, with long trailing vines of those silver leaves, swaying in the breeze. It looked rather like Earth's – what do you call them? The trees they say are crying?"

She thought a moment, then "Weeping willows?"

"That's the one. The corins looked like willows, only thirty times bigger than the biggest willow on Earth. To those later people it became the symbol of strength, and steadfastness, and endurance, like your oak. In fact, it became tradition to plant a corin sproutling in the front yard of a new house, as the symbol of all those good wishes and ideals for the family being established within. You see, the people didn't move around like you humans do, but families stayed and lived in their House" (she could hear the capitalization in his voice) "for generation after generation, each one building on and making it their own."

"Bet it got crowded after a while," she quipped.

"Well, as with most societies, it was usually the eldest child who married and brought their new spouse into the House, and their children continuing. Younger children might marry or they might not. If they married an eldest child, they would of course move to their spouse's House. If neither of the couple were eldest, sometimes they'd live in one House or the other, whichever might have room, or sometimes they began building their own House, planting the corin in a High Beginning ceremony the day they moved in. But often... Oi! This story has gotten far off track!"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "But remember that digression, Miss Tyler; there will be a quiz later on!"

She groaned, "No, no quiz!"

Grinning, he settled back again and continued. "Where was I?

"Over the course of the eons, intelligent people did evolve on our lovely planet. And as they did, they discovered that many among them had an extra sense – they could sense the flow of time itself."

Rose stilled and came to attention at that. Of course, he was talking about the Time Lords. Duh.

"After a while, some of them began to see further and further, into the past, into the future, and far across the universe – and they even began to manipulate time. And they discovered corals, and made matrixes, and vortexes, and all manner of things to help them do these things. And they taught each other, and their children, all they learned.

"After a long time, they made another discovery. As each individual began his studies, peering into the heart of the Vortex and learning to shape and use it, if he were very still, he would hear a whispering in his head, as if the Vortex itself were speaking to him. And the syllables seemed to cut through their skin and their head and their hearts, and they realized that they were the sounds of their very soul. They called the words their true names, and it became a rite of passage to proclaim one's true name in a ceremony, and use only it afterward, putting aside the family name their parents had given them at birth. Well, even Time Lords name their babies _something_!

"But, as always happens everywhere in creation, evil crept into the shining world of Gallifrey, and one Lord of ill intent discovered the power of the true names, that if used by one such as he, he could bend the owner of the name to his will. And so he did, and the world was nearly wrecked by this one man before he was brought down.

"Of course, the rite of passage was immediately stopped, and all new Time Lords began keeping their true name strictly secret, never telling it to any other living soul save one he trusted utterly, and always would, throughout their long lives. And you can guess how often that might happen. At the beginning, they went back to using their family name, but those weren't quite right, not anymore. So they began to take their own names, calling themselves this or that, sometimes a name, sometimes more of a title, but something that they nonetheless felt reflected their natures, or at least the nature they wished to project."

"Like 'the Doctor'," she said.

"Exactly. So now you know, Rose Marion Tyler. Time Lords have three names as well. Though, I must confess, if you take it over an entire life, some of us have had many more than that. There's no law saying you must go by the same moniker all your life."

Diverted from the question she had almost thought of, she asked: "Yeah? What else have you called yourself?"

He chuckled. "Well, at the beginning, when I started school – you might not believe this, but I was rather a scamp."

"No! Say it ain't so!"

"Yup. I told the Masters my name was Hey You."

She spluttered, "Oh no you didn't!"

"Yup. Did too. For the first, oh, twenty-odd years of school, I was Hey You. The Masters didn't have much of a sense of humor about it, but I stood firm, and they had no choice. It was Tradition.

"I got tired of it after a while, and when I finally found a teacher who actually inspired me, and finally gave me the love of learning, I became the Seeker - even if I never did become a very good student. Not terribly original, either: there was usually a Seeker or six around the Academy, but it fit me well enough, too. And I stayed the Seeker for a long time, until the First Dalek War began."

He fell silent. Rose let him be, sensing the cloud of memories engulfing him, none good. Then, "I won't tell you the name I took during the war. Let the Oncoming Storm of the Daleks stand – it tells the story well enough. After the war was over, I didn't use any name at all for a long time. I was nobody. Even after I came to Earth and slowly began to recover my own – humanity, if you will pardon the term, I remained nameless.

"Finally, one day, I patched up somebody's scrapes, and they called me 'Doctor'. And I liked it. It fit. So 'the Doctor' I became, and 'the Doctor' I've remained ever since."

They were quiet for a time, each thinking and digesting. Then Rose remembered her earlier question. "Were family names secret, too?"

"No."

"What was yours, then? If you don't mind my asking?"

Silence. She waited. "Doctor?" Still silence. _Shit_. Gingerly, sure she'd crossed some boundary and angered him, she straightened up and turned to face him to apologize, prepared for the wrath in his eyes, or worse, the cold remoteness she'd come to associate with the Time Lord at his most Lordly.

Instead, amazingly, she found him biting his lips, holding back a grin, eyes dancing with merriment. At her "WTF?" look, the grin struggled harder to escape, but he managed to keep it down, and merely raised his eyebrows at her, significantly, waiting.

Suddenly she recalled the "quiz", and the light dawned. "Corin? That's your family name?"

His grin at last escaped, pulling a delighted laugh out with it, and then a nod.

Her brilliant smile spread across her face, and she laughed back. "Corin. I like it!" She turned again and settled back. "Corin. It fits you." He laughed again.

Suddenly she sat up and faced him again, but shyly this time. "Could... could I call you that sometimes? When it's just us – I wouldn't ever say it publicly, I promise!" She bit her lip, tentative, pleading.

He looked at her, wonderingly. He seemed to start to speak once, twice, then, softly: "Yeah. I'd like that."

Another brilliant smile, and she settled back again, and they both drifted off into their thoughts in a comfortable silence.

On the surface, at least. Inside, the Doctor was at war with himself. As always.

_Tell her._ Silence. _Tell her!_ Silence. He couldn't move. _TELL her, you stupid bloody coward, that's what you started the bloody story for in the first place! Tell her your true name!_ On and on it went, his intense longing for that closeness, that trust, battling his silent fear, sending spear after arrow after rope into the black hole of despair and loneliness and torment and the endless, empty, aching years with nothing to hold on to but memories.

Fear won. As always.

Sighing, giving up, he opened his eyes to the world to discover Rose had drifted off to sleep, head tilted endearingly on his shoulder. Unfortunately for his equilibrium, doing so had exposed the corner of her jaw and the hollow behind it to the night, tantalizingly close to his lips. He stared at her skin, mesmerized by the soft curves seeming to glow in the starlight, beckoning him on. Closer and closer he drifted, till his lips were a hair's breadth away. And froze. Fear came roaring back out of the black hole, raging over his tentative desire, leaving bleak destruction in its wake.

Defeated again, he slunk back and leaned his head on the rock behind, a little harder than he had intended. So he did it again twice more for good measure, then winced. "Owwwww." He sighed again and forced muscles he hadn't realized had tensed to relax, then pulled out the sonic screwdriver and buzzed the rocks hot again.

It was going to be a bitch of a night.


	3. Smoky Blue

**Smoky Blue**

_Bad Wolf Bay, still_

Corin leaned against the rocks, cradling Rose in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder, thinking of those other rocks. She'd kept her promise – she always did – and never called him by his family name in public. The half-dozen-or-so times she'd used it were always those quiet, private moments in the TARDIS – reminiscing about their adventures, or collapsing after another narrow escape. One time – the only time she'd ever actually beaten him back to the TARDIS and slipped inside the door first, she'd teased him about getting "old and slow, you are. You're putting down roots like your namesake!" and he'd laughed till his sides hurt.

He smiled again. She had such a way of saying his name, always making it sound special, rather than the Gallifreyan equivalent of John that it was. Some years, it seemed half the male children registered in the territory were named Corin. Not that he'd ever tell Rose that – it would ruin everything! _Well, I'm the only Corin now, that's for certain._

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek softly against her hair, breathing in the scent of it and relishing the feeling of her against his chest. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. For a time, they simply stood still, living in the moment alone, then his thoughts drifted back to another, much more recent memory.

^..^

Such a joyous flight the TARDIS had never seen, the group of friends flying the Earth home together. Corin was content to let the Doctor run things, leaning back and watching his other self out of the corner of his eyes. As time went on, though, he began to notice something: the Doctor never quite met anybody's eyes. _It's starting again,_ Corin thought.

(Back in the present, a corner of his mind noticed the subtle change in his mental labels: Corin vs. the Doctor. He nodded. _So be it._ The last thing he wanted was for his name to be a constant reminder to Rose of what she'd lost.)

When the TARDIS landed and people started leaving, he thought again, _Yup, he's freezing them out. And Rose?_ He glanced over to where she was talking quietly with her Mum about Mickey.

When the Doctor came back in and said brightly, "Just time for one last trip. Darlig Ulv Stranden. Better known as... ", without meeting _anyone's_ eyes, Corin knew the die was cast. _You bastard!_ he thought, then instantly made up his mind.

He took two steps over to where Donna stood, pulling her around and whispering intently. "Donna. He's going to leave her." She started to protest that he wouldn't, he couldn't, but he cut her off. "Listen. I've got one heart. One life. One chance. Just one chance - with her. And I'm going to grab it."

Her face cleared, and she smiled fierce encouragement. "You do that, Spaceman. You grab that chance with both hands and hang on. Got your hat box?"

"Right here. But Donna – I'm never going to see you again. But you'll always be a part of me. Quite literally." He smiled.

"I know. Take care of yourself, and her." She gave him a quick hug, as the TARDIS landed.

"You too. And take care of _him_. He'll need you." In one corner of his mind, Corin realized there was something wrong with that statement, but couldn't take time to figure it out. He swung towards the door where Jackie and Rose were just exiting.

Standing by while the Doctor crushed Rose's heart, he fought the urge to jump in. _Easy, boy. Slowly. It's __got to be her choice._ When she turned to him and he told her about his new part-human status, he spoke as carefully as he ever had in his life, jamming his hands into his pockets so she wouldn't see them shaking.

Finally, with the Doctor refusing to finish the sentence, she turned to him again, and he saw his chance and grabbed it. Gently. Tenderly. With the softest whisper: "I love you. I always have."

They stared at each other a moment, then when she grabbed his lapels and pulled him in for that ecstatic kiss, he knew before she did that she'd made her choice. Maybe not one hundred percent certain, maybe things would be wobbly for a while, but it was done. And he was going to do everything in his power to make certain that she never, ever regretted it for a single moment.

^..^

Now down the beach, he continued to hold her close, promising himself all over again that he was never going to let anything happen to lose this feeling, that he was never going to hurt her the way she'd just been hurt.

Then, softly, deathly afraid it might be the wrong thing to say, but compelled nevertheless, he began speaking again. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so, so sorry." On the other hand, didn't somebody once say that an apology is _never_ wrong? "I'm sorry."

That finally piqued her interest, and she pushed back slightly to peer up into his face. "Why?"

"For being stupid. For being a coward. For being a stupid coward. I'm sorry for every time I didn't finish the sentence. I'm sorry for every time I didn't say what I was thinking, what I was feeling. For every missed opportunity to say I love you. For not saying how much I wanted to travel on with you forever. For not saying that yes, we'd always be OK. For not telling you how much you mean to me, each and every day. For always chickening out at the last second."

He sighed again. "Even that story in the rocks. Even then I chickened out. I had started it intending to tell you my _true_ name, and in the end, I couldn't. Rose, my name is -"

For a moment, she though he had spoken too quickly for her to catch it, but then she realized he hadn't said it aloud at all, but had put his name directly into her mind. She closed her eyes and replayed it, savoring every nuance the syllables invoked (while wondering how they did): the howling rush of a storm wind, the crackling roar of wildfire, and underneath, the mischievous sound of something very young giggling with delight. "Yes,"she thought, "that's him."

Then she tucked it away to bring out and savor later, turning instead to the ramifications of him _not_ telling her then, but _telling_ her now. _On the whole, quoth she,_ she thought with a mental grin, _I much prefer the latter._ She opened her eyes again and smiled up at Corin.

He searched her eyes for understanding, and finding it, relaxed and smiled back.

"Say it again," she whispered.

He knew what 'it' was this time. "I love you. I love you so much I'd do anything for you. Even crawl on my knees. Even – even get a job and a mortgage. That's another apology I owe you. I'm sorry for not telling you, back on the station by the black hole, remember? When you said that about sharing the mortgage, I should have told you – suddenly, the prospect didn't seem so bad. And it doesn't now. I don't care if I'm digging ditches to buy you a mansion, as long as the mansion holds you when I get home at night."

"Well, then," she replied, "you'll be happy to know now that it's totally unnecessary. Another conversation, not ours: remember when Mum and Pete finally met up again, and he was telling her he's "rich, very rich"? Well, actually, he was lying. It's more like, "filthy, stinking rich". And last year, for my birthday, he up and _gave_ me a very nice chunk of change for myself, no strings. So if we want to buy a house, we can just buy it, no mortgage. And as for the job: you can do literally anything you like. If you find you want to make a _career_ out of something, go for it, but you don't ever need to stick with something boring just to put food on the table or a roof over our heads." She grinned, imp back. "You could even go back to school, if you like, and become a _real_ doctor."

He shook his head. "Only if they give doctorates in Loving You." He leaned forward, touching his lips gently to hers, gearing up mentally for the old battle within – only to find Fear vanished, the bleak hole in his soul that it had inhabited for so long filled in. Gaining courage, he pulled her even closer, taking control of the kiss and committing each sigh, each sensation to memory. _So this is what Love feels like. I do remember._

^..^

Back up the beach, Jackie smiled. They were far out of earshot, but she could still see them. And it looked like they were working things out between them just fine. She sighed. Despite all the constant fussing and fighting, part of her had always liked him. Parts of him. He could really be very endearing at times, albeit very exasperating at others, and she certainly understood why her daughter was attracted to him. Now that _this_ Doctor wasn't going to be dragging her Rose off to other times, other planets, other _dimensions_, for heaven's sake, she was willing to give him a chance.

^..^

A long time and many kisses later, they heard the distant thwock of the helicopter. "Your carriage approaches, my lady," he grinned, and they turned and started back to Jackie in the distance, coming up to her just as the bird came in to a landing 50 yards off on the harder packed sand. The pilot waved to them, and they ran over, Corin helping Jackie into the front seat beside the pilot, then turning to help Rose into the back with himself.

She hadn't moved.

She stood rooted to the ground a few yards away, head turned, not _quite_ looking back at the spot where the TARDIS had sat an hour before. When her life was wrenched, yet again, yanked abruptly from one course onto another completely different, one not at all what she had been working for, screaming for, dying for. He watched as waves of emotion washed over her, not willing to try to name them. Tears coursed down her face as the wind blew away her sobs. He stood there, waiting, hand stretched towards her. He'd wait forever, if he had to.

Finally, unable to endure the empty sand, she turned back to the waiting helicopter, and saw him there. She shakily held her hand up to him, but still couldn't move, rooted. Stranded. He walked back and took her hand, gazing sadly and intently into her eyes. Then he gently pulled her forward with him, and they slowly stepped up and climbed into the chopper.

As the bird lifted into the skies above Bad Wolf Bay, she rested her forehead against the glass, gazing for the last time ever on the sands where her life had ended, twice now. Then as the Bay fell behind in the distance, she wiped her face, took a deep breath, and turned to face her new life, with her new/old man. Time to begin again.


	4. Sky Blue

**Sky Blue**

A couple of hours later, Pete's jet came sliding down the runway at Bergen. The travelers had landed at the helicopter pad an hour before, walked over to the main terminal for a bite to eat at one of the food stands (Chips! Glorious, wonderful, delicious fried chips!), then made their way to the non-commercial terminal to wait. As the executive jet touched down and began taxiing, Jackie was out the door, Corin and Rose following hand-in-hand.

Corin admired the lines of the jet. He'd never traveled on much of anything other than the TARDIS, but even he could see this was one sweet ride. "Sleek!"

Rose agreed. "One of the perks of running the world's largest telecom company."

"I thought he was running Torchwood?"

She shot him an undecipherable look. "No, he was just sort of helping out that time. After Lumic died, the first time we were here, Pete was the highest remaining officer in Cybus Industries, even though his company had only just been merged in. The government asked him to take over and 'put things to rights', even gave him all the rest of Lumic's personal fortune to do it. And he did. He asked the military to publicly shoot down the satellites at his expense, and then put up new ones – all completely open, anybody could come inspect them before they were put into orbit. And then he nearly bankrupted the company offering free replacement handsets – nobody wanted ear buds anymore – for all customers. He asked them to trust him. And they did! A lot of them did go to other companies, ones that started up to take advantage, but a lot of them stayed. The company recovered, renamed PTI – Pete Tyler Industries – and he's been running it ever since."

While she was talking, the jet had taxied up to the building and stopped. The door opened and Pete jumped down the steps, sweeping Jackie up in his arms and twirling her around. "Put me down, you daft plum!" she laughed.

He did, kissing her soundly, then waved the other two over. "Let's get going, I want to get home!"

They climbed into the small cabin, finding two pairs of seats facing each other fore and aft, a small passageway running between up to the cockpit. The forward-facing seat on the right looked like Pete's – the briefcase in front of it on the small side table was a dead giveaway - so Corin and Rose moved up to the rear-facing seats beyond, each taking one. Jackie took the seat to Pete's left, while Pete locked up the door again and waved to the pilot through the cockpit door. The pilot saluted, closed the door, and the jet soon began moving back towards the runway. No one spoke while the plane sped through the airport and climbed into the skies.

The plane's cabin was a study in blue and silver, with plush leather seats that threatened to let you sink right through to the floor. Rose thought she might fall asleep in about five seconds – if she could relax enough and let go. After the jet had gained altitude and leveled off, the engine roar dropping back down to conversational level, Corin said to Pete, "This is _very_ nice – much more comfortable than the TARDIS."

"Thank you, Doctor. Uh, forgive me a rude question, but you are still 'Doctor', aren't you?"

Grateful for the lead-in, Corin said, "Actually, no. I think I'm going to drop the 'Doctor' and take another name – a more human-style name." He smiled at Rose. "New name for a new life."

Eyebrows raised, she queried, "John Smith?"

"Nope. Corin."

She gasped, then gave him a delighted smile.

Jackie: " 'Corin'? What's that from?"

Corin turned to her and Pete, explaining. "It's my family name – the one my parents gave me when I was born. Family names are usually dropped when we enter school, though still used by those close to us."

Jackie was fascinated by this brief, unprecedented glimpse into his past life. "Does it mean something, though?"

"Yeah. It's the name of a tree on Gallifrey – my home planet, now destroyed – like your... what was it again, Rose?"

She remembered: "The willow."

"Right. It looked like a willow, only much larger."

Jackie said, "You need a last name, too. How about 'Willows', then?"

Corin stared at her, intrigued and then delighted. He was just about to agree when Rose said softly, "No. I know." He turned to look his question, and she gazed at him a moment, then said quietly, "Gallifrey. In honor of what was lost."

Unexpected tears stinging, he simply nodded, then reached out to hold her hand across the aisle.

Jackie murmured, "Gallifrey. That's lovely."

Finding his voice again, Corin said, "Hold on. Don't you have three names, Miss Rose Marion Tyler? Then how about this: Corin Willows Gallifrey?" He turned to grin at Jackie. "I like that name, too."

Incredibly pleased that he liked her suggestion that much, Jackie joined the others in enthusiastically endorsing the suggested name. _OK, you big lunk. You can hang around a while._

Pete, who had quietly gotten everyone a drink during the conversation, raised his glass to toast the 'christening', the other three joining in. A bit later, Pete said, "I _would_ like to find out about this 'freak accident', though. Care to fill that in?"

Corin laughed. "It's a _long_ story."

Pete replied, "It's a long flight. Think you can tell it in three hours?"

"All right, then. Where to begin?" He started with the human-Time Lord metacrisis, then backed up to explain how he'd lost his hand, then how he'd gotten it back from Jack Harkness, then how Jack had gotten it, then had to go back and explain Jack himself, how Rose as the Bad Wolf – oh, and how that had happened – had given him immortality, and he'd overshot his one last time jump and had to relive the twentieth century waiting for the two of them to come back. Rose listened, as fascinated as her parents. She hadn't heard most of that, either.

At the end, as thoroughly muddled herself as the others, Rose turned the story around and recapped it forward again, checking with Corin to make sure she had it right.

Corin, turning back to Pete, ended with "and then the Doctor took everyone back home – Mickey decided to jump worlds again – and brought us back here," glossing over that it hadn't exactly been Rose's choice, and hoping nobody would rub salt in her wounds by bringing it up just then. "And I'm staying here, too. I only have this one life left, now, and I'm hoping to spend it with Rose. Though I notice that she hasn't given me an answer yet..."

He looked sidelong at Rose, teasing, but she was gazing at the ceiling above Jackie. He couldn't read her expression, but she wasn't smiling. This wasn't good. His smile faded. "Rose?" Silence.

Rose had noticed the gloss. _I wish you guys would stop making decisions for me. All of you. _ Thoughtfully, she said to the ceiling, "You know, it's funny you should put it that way, because I don't actually recall hearing any questions. In fact, all day long, with everything that's happened, neither one of you Doctors ever actually _asked_ me anything."

Quietly, he said "You're right." A beat. He tried again: "Rose?"

She still didn't answer, didn't turn. _Shit_. Time for the big guns.

He undid his seat belt, and slipped out of the seat, managing to fold his legs up and kneel in the passageway (Pete quickly shifting his feet to make room), and tried the third time charm. "Rose?"

This time she did turn to face him, face solemn. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

Eyes full of all the emotion he'd never dared express before, he forgot the two onlookers behind him, and began to open his heart. "I love you. I want to be with you, always. I want to take care of you, walk with you, to meet everything this life has to offer." He stopped, startled at the echo from deep in his memory. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, then tentatively reached again for hers. This time she let him take it. "I know I'm not your first choice, that I'm only second best." Her eyes flashed, but she still said nothing. "But I swear, that only means I'm going to try that much harder, to make sure that every day you know how much I love you, that every day you have everything you want, all the adventure you desire, and every beautiful thing I can find. You'd make me the happiest man in every universe if you'd consent to be my wife." Belatedly, remembering to make it a question, he asked, simply, "Will you marry me?"

Rose continued to gaze solemnly at him for several seconds, considering, until Jackie half-groaned, "Oh, come ON!", and they both jumped, remembering their audience.

Rose silenced her mum with a glance, then looked back to Corin. Still solemn, she replied, "I will."

His heart leapt, but before he could even smile, she added: "On one condition."

"And that is?"

Starting levelly, but quickly gathering intensity, she opened her heart in return. "That you drop this 'second best' _bullshit_ right here and now. I may not have had any choice in coming here – either time," she grimaced, "but I _do_ have a choice in how I live my life now I'm here. That was the first thing you taught me, remember?" _Yes, you!_ she thought. "That I can't sit around waiting for life to begin, because it never will. And forgive me, Mum," she turned to Jackie, "but watching you for twenty years taught me that I can't waste my life crying for what I've lost, either, no matter how that turned out in the end." She turned back to Corin. "So I won't. I'm choosing how I live my life, and I'm _choosing_ you. _He_ didn't – wouldn't – finish the sentence. _You_ did. _He_ left. _You_ stayed. In my book, that makes _you_ the better man. And I'm _choosing_ to be with you." She fixed him with a final glare. "So don't _ever_ let me hear you calling yourself 'second best' at _anything, ever again_, you hear me?"

Managing to keep his face straight over his jubilant celebrating inside, he said, meekly, "Yes, ma'am."

Another second of glaring, and then she released her supernova smile and grabbed his lapels with a 'remember this?' glint. "Then come here and kiss me."

And so he did, while two cheers broke out behind him.

A long, long moment later, the cheers turned into "OK, you two, break it up." They pulled back, smiling knowingly at each other for a moment, then Rose impishly pushed him back to his seat, taking his hand again as he sat.

Pete refilled the drinks to make another toast, when Jackie cried, "We should call ahead to Paulette – that's our cook, Corin – and have her whip up something special to celebrate."

Rose winced. "Oh, please don't, Mum. No. No." She flashed an apologetic look at Corin - "Sorry, no time to ask" - then turned back to Jackie. "I just thought... I mean... I thought maybe Corin and I might spend a few days at the flat first. Kind of... sort things out. Get to know each other again, you know what I mean? It's been three years." She blushed.

Jackie started to protest, "But there's plenty of room at the house!" when Pete overrode her.

"That's a great idea, sweetheart. A little privacy." He turned to Jackie, who looked wounded. "Don't turn into your Mum, Jacks. Remember how... ubiquitous she was when we first got together? In this world, anyway," remembering that this Jackie might have different memories.

Apparently she didn't, though. Taken aback, arrow struck, she gulped and said, "Right. OK." Turning back to Rose, she recovered as gracefully as she could. "You'll come round for dinner some evening soon, though? Be sure to give me enough warning to let Paulette know."

Rose and Corin were both gaping. Rose recovered first and stammered out. "Yeah. Of course." Shaking herself a bit, she asked, "What day is it, anyway?"

"Tuesday," offered Pete.

"Perfect! How about Sunday dinner, then, the formal family bit at 12 noon, like always?"

Jackie beamed, albeit a tad forced. "Lovely."

Having had enough, Rose laughed and said, "OK, who are you and what have you done with my Mum?" Then, a bit softer, "Grandma must have been fierce?"

Pete answered, "You have no idea. I don't think we had more than five minutes alone together from the day we got engaged to the day we got married. Literally."

Jackie nodded. "It was awful. I don't want to be like that. Please let me know if I get to be too much. I may not take it well, but please – I _really_ don't want to be like that."

Taking pity on her, Rose got up and gave her a hug. "You couldn't be that bad, Mum. Besides, I couldn't possibly cut off all contact. I'm desperately going to need your help."

"With what?"

"What do you think? Planning the wedding!"

Jackie laughed. "Darling, I've been planning that since you were two years old!"

"I know!" And both of them collapsed in peals of laughter, and in no time swung off into talk of dresses and flowers and music.

Pete shot a sympathetic grin at Corin, who was turning several shades of what-have-I-gotten-myself-into?, and asked, "So, Corin, ever played golf?"

Corin grinned back, grateful. "Nope. But something tells me this would be the perfect time to learn." He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening idly to the chatter.

A few minutes later, Rose said "I have a special request. I want my hair done up like yours was, Mum, with that upsweep and the flowers."

Jackie smiled and was about to reply, when Corin broke in, eyes still closed, a bit dreamily. "A crown of flowers." He straightened up and looked at Rose, who had turned to him quizzically. "A crown of flowers for you, and a crown of leaves for me. What? Can't I bring in some Gallifreyan traditions?"

She smiled delightedly, and told him, "Of course you can! As many as you want!"

Jackie nodded agreement, then the obvious follow-up, "What are Gallifreyan weddings like, then, Corin? Or were, I guess I should say."

He struggled for a moment, then gave up, laughing. "It's been a very very _very_ long time. I'm going to have to take a few days to dredge it out of my memory, then I'll tell you all about it."

A short time later, the jet began its descent into London. The foursome said their goodbyes and climbed into separate cars, Corin and Rose taking a taxi to the flat. It proved to be on the sixth floor of a stylish, newish complex not far from Canary Wharf. Rose replied to the doorman's "Good evening, Miss Tyler", introducing Corin as her fiancé (giving him an incredibly goofy thrill), and asking the doorman to spread the word that Corin was to have complete access. Then they got into the elevator for the ride up.

Rose had been increasingly silent since the jet had landed, and she turned the key in the lock without a word, leading the way inside. While Corin closed and locked the door, then stood for a moment drinking in the atmosphere – stylish, inviting, and comfortable – she walked over to the dining table, put down her keys, shrugged off her jacket and hung it over a chair back – and then suddenly leaned over the table on both fists, head down, swamped by a wave of desolation and _déjà vu_.

She felt Corin move softly up behind her, and tentatively touch her shoulder. She raised her head, sniffed, and said shakily, "I love this flat. I really really do. And every time I walked out of it the last six months, I prayed to high heaven I would never ever see it again. And here I am." _Back to square one._

He stood there helplessly, at a complete loss for any words of comfort. Then, finally, he choked out, "Rose. I know I'm doing this all wrong. God help me, I've never once in my long life done it _right_. But all I can think of right now is two things. I can't stand seeing you like this. And I want you so much it's killing me. Please." His voice fell to a whisper. "Please let me make love to you."

She turned then and looked at him, and he saw the tears on her face and reached to wipe them off with a finger. She caught his hand with her own, and held his palm to her cheek, unable to speak. She searched his eyes for the hundredth time, looking for and finding the reassurance of familiarity. Suddenly she moved into his arms and kissed him, passion rising to meet passion. A few breathless minutes later, she broke off, panting, stepped back, looked levelly at him, then took his hand again and led him through the bedroom door.


	5. Stormy Teal

**Stormy Teal**

The next day the storm broke.

The morning had started out wonderfully, the two lovers stumbling out from bed and bath midmorning, after a very long and incredibly satisfying night of passion and mutual discovery. _I'm going to be sore for a week!_ thought Rose with a smirk. _And it was worth every twinge._ (She was glad he hadn't answered that one breathless, ecstatic question - "where in the world did you learn to DO that?" - and merely smiled mysteriously. She didn't actually want to know.)

They puttered around the kitchen, making breakfast, "accidentally" bumping in to each other and giggling, as only new lovers do. Under her direction, Corin pulled a box of leftover Chinese food out of the fridge and was dicing up the bigger hunks of veggies while she whisked some eggs to make something she called a "chop suey omelet", chattering happily, mindlessly away.

"No, the planet with those huge table-sized melons, remember? I took Donna back there and her eyes just bugged out. I told her and _told_ her not to try the dumplings, they were too hot even for me to eat, but Donna being Donna, she just... just..."

The world tilted sideways, and the knife clattered from his nerveless fingers to the chopping board, as the knowledge he'd suppressed while hugging Donna goodbye the day before burst through his brain. Human-Time Lord metacrises can't happen. She wouldn't be able to maintain it. She'd... No. She was already gone.

Tears stinging, he turned to Rose to tell her, and the world tilted again. Rose was standing facing him a few feet away, fists clenched, eyes murderous. Shocked into utter stillness, he could only stand and gape while she forced out between clenched teeth: "Don't. Ever. Say that name to me again."

He opened his mouth to verify, "Donna?", realizing just in time how suicidal that would be, and shut it again while she went on, starting low but building fast to volcanic proportions as the awful pressure within shot past the boiling point. She'd shocked herself with her reaction, as a scorching ball of pain, jealousy and fury had come roaring out of nowhere at the mention of the other woman who'd been on the beach, and she knew she was being cruel and unfair, she could see in his eyes how much she was hurting him in return, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I swear to god, if I _ever_ see that self-righteous, arrogant, pompous _bitch_ again, I'm going to scratch her fucking eyes out!" A malicious falsetto: "'Oh, can't you see what else he's giving you?' _See this, bitch! _The only thing I see is YOU waltzing away with the man I spent _three fucking years_ beating my brains out across the universe to find!" Yelling now. "AND EQUALS? YOU COULDN'T EQUAL HIS FINGERNAIL CLIPPINGS IF YOU PUT YOUR BEST ONE HUNDRED YEARS TOGETHER!" She took a breath, and finally managed to edge closer to the true, raw, gaping wound, though she couldn't tame her screaming voice. "WHY _HER_, CORIN? _WHY?_" Gasping, she stopped cold. _Please understand. Please..._

As completely unprepared for the question and the sudden silence as he had been for the outburst, all Corin could do was gulp. Part of his mind knew there was more going on here than jealousy, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. She was still waiting for an answer. He had to say _something._

"I... I'm taking my life in my hands, I know, but I'm just going to say one.. no, two things.. " quickly, placatingly, "neither of which is intended in any way to justify or defend D- her, but instead hopefully help you feel just a little bit better. OK?" he asked hopefully. Thunderous silence. "OK, talk fast.

"One. I'm ninety-nine point nine nine percent certain that there is no Doctor-Donna anymore. He'll have had to take it away from her, for the same reason I had to take it away from you. Because her human brain can't handle it, and she'd tear herself apart trying. In fact," another wave of realization hitting as he spoke, "I'm reasonably certain that in order to save her life, he'll have to take away not just the Time Lord mind, but all her memories of him, as well. By this time, she's back to her boring old life in Chiswick, with no memories of ever having met the Doctor or traveled around the galaxy." He knew some of his sorrow was showing through, but couldn't help it. He quashed his tears ruthlessly, though, and went on. He'd mourn his friend in private later.

"Two. The reason she went on about being friends is because _I_ did, way back at the beginning. I didn't even want her to come along, she practically forced herself on me and the TARDIS. I made it absolutely clear, though, that _friends_ is all it ever was or ever would be, that there wouldn't ever be anything more, and there wasn't. She's just – so not my type. Can I stop digging now?" he said quickly, hoping a bit of humor might help.

It didn't. In fact, what came next was even worse. Tears streaming unchecked, voice cracking with every word, Rose sobbed out, baring the wound itself, "Then _why? WHY?_ Wasn't I smart enough? Or pretty enough? I went through _hell_ for three _years_, shooting myself across alternate realities and even correcting timelines, just to get back to him. Wasn't that _good_ enough? Why? What - what did I do wrong?" Choking on the last words, she halted, both hands pressed to her mouth to hold in the howls that threatened to come pouring out.

Realization flooded through him, and he was devastated for her. Neither jealousy of Donna, nor love of the Doctor, it was the sheer agony and humiliation of having been publicly _rejected_ in favor of another – in _front_ of that other – by the man she'd loved so much that she'd nearly killed herself to find him.

"Oh, no, baby, no!" he moaned. He reached to comfort her, but she flinched back, tear-drenched eyes locked on his. He understood: she needed his words, not his arms.

Flinging his hand through his hair, thinking frantically, he felt a wave of fury and disgust with his former – now absent – self. _This is why you threw her at me, isn't it? So somebody else could clean up your mess. Again._ He knew that wasn't quite fair or accurate, but he was beyond caring. He was on the other side now. _Fine. Time to throw the Doctor under the bus. I've no loyalty left there anyway. You made sure of that, too, didn't you?_ he added bitterly to himself.

With all the earnestness he could muster, he began again. "Rose, sweetheart, _it wasn't you_. It was fear. Fear of losing you again, fear of having to go through that agony again. Fear of having to watch you die, or watch you walk away. Because that's what happens to the Doctor's companions. Always. They die or they leave, one way or another, sooner or later. And he's left all alone, the dry centuries stretching out before him, with nothing to hold on to but memories.

"And the more he cares, the more he loves, the worse it is when the inevitable happens. He just couldn't go through that again, not with you. Baby, I _died_ when you fell through the vortex and the wall closed. For three years, I was a walking zombie, and everyone around me knew it, and knew it was because of you. And he just couldn't go through that again. Because he was afraid. The same paralyzing fear that kept me from telling you how I felt all the time we were together, made him cut and run.

"I don't know – maybe it's the anger in me that let me cut through that fear. Maybe it's the knowledge that I only have this one life left that makes me realize that I can't afford to waste a single minute of it living without you. Maybe it's the memory of how it felt to come alive again when I turned and saw you at the other end of that street that lets me know I _never_ want to lose that feeling again, that I want to wrap myself up in it and live it till I die. I don't know.

"But I do know this. _You didn't do anything wrong._ Hell, you did everything absolutely, completely _right._ And that's what scared him shitless. So he ran, as far and as fast as he could. It had nothing to do with Donna. Nothing.

"It was pure chickenshit self-preservation."

She heard him. She understood. Her tears started faster, and the sobs she had held forcibly back with her hands broke through. He reached for her again, and this time she let him gather her up, flinging her arms around his neck and sagging against him, unable to hold the unbearable pain inside any longer. She clung to him for what seemed like hours, wracked by spasms that threatened to tear her body apart like a wild thing clawing to escape.

He didn't try to soothe or stop her, somehow knowing that she had to let this out completely now or it would eat away at her until it turned her heart to acid. Tears streamed unnoticed down his own cheeks, for the woman he loved, for the friend he'd lost, for the bleak self-destructive path of fear and loneliness of his former self. They held on to each other for dear life and love.

Finally, gradually, her sobs began to ease and the tears dwindled. They didn't move, didn't speak, until long after they had ceased; they simply stood there, silently clinging to each other.

Rose was utterly drained, as empty as last night's wine bottle, nothing left but dregs. Slowly, slowly, she felt herself coming back to life, bit by tiny bit. Her love for this man, this _good_ man, her friend, companion, and lover, threaded quietly through her heart, bringing acceptance and release. A tiny spark of determination to take control of her life again began to glow and spread.

After half an eternity, she whispered against his shoulder, "OK."

He was perplexed. _OK, what?_ He waited, mute.

A long pause, gathering strength, then she continued. "All right." She took a long shuddering breath. "I said I wasn't going to spend my life crying over what I'd lost, and I'm not. That's the last time I'm going to waste my tears over the likes o' him." She said it quietly, levelly, but he heard the strength of her will within the words, and his heart relearned hope. She eased back a bit, and they searched each other's eyes. She pulled her arms back to gently wipe away his tears with her fingers. "I'm here," she told him. "I'm all here."

He found he couldn't speak, so he simply kissed her tenderly. Then, "And I will always be here for you."

Closing their eyes, foreheads touching, they stood that way for a while longer. Then, finally, she pulled back, taking a deep breath, and began to disengage, wanting to return to normal. He let her go. She started to turn towards the breakfast makings, then suddenly turned back, finger poking at his chest. "But I still don't ever want to hear that name again." She couldn't have said herself whether she was joking or not.

Cupping his hands in front of his mouth to "radio-ify" his voice, he announced, "Attention, please. All women in the UK with the first name D-O-N-N-A are hereby required to change it immediately, by order of Dame Rose of the Powell Estate. Compliance is mandatory." Hands still hiding his mouth – and the incipient smile – he waited to watch the effect.

Rose went from lip-twitch to snicker to snort to full guffaw in 5.2 seconds, with Corin a delighted beat behind. Sinking to the floor, they howled in relieved laughter, far more than called for, but sweet release after the tempest. Corin felt a wave break over him, equal parts relief at having weathered the storm, joy at hearing her first genuine, full laughter since they had landed at Bad Wolf Bay, and gleeful pride at having been the one to evoke it.

As her laughter began to calm, he decided to prolong it by tickling her, so she tried to attack him back. Which inevitably wound up with him bounding to his feet, sweeping her up in his arms, and carrying her back to the bedroom again to show her exactly how much he loved her.

Luckily, as they discovered much later, they hadn't yet turned on the cooker under the omelet pan.


	6. Turquoise

_**A/N:** I didn't make up the part below about the TARDIS coral; they actually filmed it as scripted here, then deleted it as too distracting from the main story. You can find it in the Extras on the DVDs, or occasionally on the internet._

* * *

**Turquoise**

Rose slowly drifted up from a deep, restoring slumber, to find herself in her new favorite position – lying at Corin's side, her head on his shoulder, legs entangled, his arm wrapped around her and resting on her hip. She shifted slightly to peer through her eyelashes at the bedside clock – 6:30 am – and smiled: habit.

She could feel that she'd slept herself out. Suddenly, she realized that her mind was clear – free of the fog of shock and pain that had dogged her since Bad Wolf Bay. Her mind flew to the day before, sobbing wildly on Corin's shoulder. _Now I know the meaning of the word 'catharsis'. _The wound in her soul was still there, raw and red, but the poison had been leeched, washed away by the storm of tears, and she thought perhaps it might heal eventually after all. She thought fleetingly of Corin's explanation of the Doctor's mysterious about-face: the paralyzing fear of impending, inevitable loss – but then decided she didn't want to ruin this morning's lovely clean mood. She'd meditate on that another day, when she was better prepared to face it.

She lifted her head to smile at her lover, expecting to find him anxiously waiting for her to wake up, and instead received another shock: he was sound asleep. _This is the first time I've seen him sleep since... since he regenerated into this face._ Carefully, so as not to wake him, she levered herself up on her elbow to study him, re-committing every line to memory after three long years of only an increasingly hazy mental image to sustain her. He looked older than she remembered. Tired. Careworn. _Oh, my love, what have you been through? You need cosseting._

She put her head back down on his chest and listened to his single heartbeat, breathing with him, then his words telling her about it on that frightful day came bubbling up in her memory.

––_ "I've only got one heart. I'm part human. Specifically, the aging part. I'll grow old and never regenerate. I've only got one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you... if you like." ––  
_

A tiny smile teased the corner of her mouth at the way he'd tried to hide his desperate desire for that life together with her behind those thrown-away last words and that little nonchalant shrug. It struck her then for the first time what it all must truly mean for him. No more regenerating. A finite life. The prospect, after 900 years of endless youthful vigor, of actually aging, growing old and perhaps feeble, and eventually dying, truly dying. Gone, poof, no more. A single lifetime.

And he wanted to spend it with her.

_How could anything ever possibly be more precious than that?_

Her sweet smile faltered and died away, as she remembered what else he'd lost. The TARDIS. His entire lifestyle of endless timehopping, travel and adventure – and running. Lots of running. _He's not the only one who lost that. I lost it, too._ She knew that it hadn't just been the man she'd been searching so desperately for; she had wanted that life back, too. _Now here we both are, stuck on the slow path._ (A corner of her mind wondered when he'd started using that term, but couldn't remember.)

_Snap out of it, Rose. Humans have managed to have tons of adventures their entire existence – it doesn't depend on time travel - _Her own thoughts stopped dead, then, as what happened next on the beach hit her forcefully. She flinched away from the memory of the Doctor's fake-casual words coming from behind her, feeling like a knife in her back, but then focused on the words themselves and what they represented.

–– _"Oh, and don't forget this. This universe is in need of defending. Chuck of TARDIS. Grow your own.__" And he'd tossed a small, organic-looking lump of coral into Corin's startled hands. _

_"But that takes thousands of years!" Corin had protested._

_"No, because - "_

_Donna had broken in then, astounding everyone yet again with the knowledge she shouldn't have had. "If you shatterfry the plasmid shell, and modify the dimensional stabilizer to a foldback harmonic of thirty-six-point-three, you accelerate the growth power by fifty-nine."_

_Stifling a grin at Donna, The Doctor had turned back again, twisting the knife in Rose's heart even as he'd tried to be kind. "The Doctor, in the TARDIS, with Rose Tyler. Just as it should be." ––  
_

Rose held her breath for a moment, tamping down the stab of pain and forcing it back behind the door labeled Doctor, then made herself think about that lump now sitting innocently on the dresser, looking like a South Sea souvenir. _If Corin can get it to grow into a new TARDIS, who knows what might happen?_ Then an idea struck her, and another and another, and she smiled again, safely past the stabbing heartache once more, and began making plans.

^..^

Later that morning, during breakfast, Rose suddenly fixed Corin with a solemn gaze. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gallifrey, but I must inform you that the time has come."

Thoroughly mystified, and a bit apprehensive – he couldn't see any glint of humor in her eyes – he merely cocked an eyebrow at her.

Pointing her finger at his chest, she intoned, "YOU need new clothes!"

His face fell. "Noooooooo! Not shopping! You're killing me, woman!"

"Well, you certainly can't wear that one suit the rest of your life. It'll fall apart in no time!" She took pity on him and took his hand, smiling. "I promise, I'll make this as quick and painless as possible. Just give me three hours."

"Three! Are you nuts? Two!"

"Done!" she said, so quickly that he knew he'd been had. He groaned again and she grinned at him, so infectiously he couldn't help but grin back.

"First, however, we need to go to the office."

"Torchwood? What for?"

"Let me put it this way. You wouldn't happen to have that slightly-psychic paper in your pocket, would you?"

"Uh, no. I seem to have left it in my other – ah, suit."

"Well, then. You can't get too far in _this_ world without some ID. Since Torchwood doesn't have an ID branch, that means I get to call Lord Cutler. He's head of British Intelligence, and a right pompous, greedy ass. But, we'll have to go through him to get you fixed up."

"Shouldn't whoever's running Torchwood do that?"

She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows. It took a second, but he got it.

"YOU'RE running Torchwood?"

"Yup," she said, with pop. "Why, don't you think I can?"

"Nope," with an answering pop. "I know how brilliant you are."

She beamed. "Keep sweet-talking me like that, mister, and you might just turn my head."

"I sincerely hope so." He leaned over and kissed her soundly, as if hoping she might get distracted enough to forget the whole shopping thing. No such luck.

As they were putting the dishes into the sink, she stopped and put her hand on his arm. "Corin, I want to apologize to you for yesterday. Especially for going off on you, and the bloody awful things I said about Donna. I didn't mean them. I was just... hurting so badly, and I lashed out. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about what's happened to her. Are you sure that he had to... take it all away?"

"Yes. I wish there was something I could do, could have done, but there's nothing and never was. You just can't put a Time Lord mind into a human brain. It never works."

"I'm so sorry." She pulled him into her arms and hugged him, and then forced herself to make the confession. "Truth be told, I _was_ jealous of her. Not because she was leaving with him - well, not _just_ because of that - but because _she_ was the center of the universe for the time, and I wasn't." She grimaced. "Not very pretty of me, was it?"

"Perhaps not. But very human."

She looked up at him, startled, then leaned back, considering him. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "time was, that would have been an insult, coming from you. Now it doesn't sound like one." She grinned. "I think I could get to like this side of you."

He grinned back, and let it go.

^..^

A short time later they hailed a cab and headed for Canary Wharf. As the cab pulled up in front of One Canada Square, Corin remarked, "Never thought I'd be able to walk back inside this building so calmly."

She smiled sympathetically and took his arm. "It took me a while, too. But the memories have been painted over. You'll see."

They entered the front doors and were greeted courteously by several men in security uniform. "Good morning, Miss Tyler." "Good morning!"

She walked Corin over to the main desk, and told the guard behind it, "This is Corin Gallifrey; he'll be joining us permanently. I'll send his info down soon; in the meantime, please get his prints?"

Corin found himself giving up thumb, palm, and retina prints, then they passed through the gates and went to the private elevator off to the side. Stepping inside, Corin noticed there were only a few buttons, one prominently marked PTI, another, less obtrusively, marked Torchwood. As Rose punched the Torchwood button, he gestured towards the other. "Pete's here, too?"

"Yeah. In this world, it was being built for Lumic's headquarters before that whole mess; Dad inherited it with the rest of Cybus. It was still mostly empty when – when Mum and I got here. PTI really took off after that, and he moved in to his floors, making room for Torchwood, as well, since they helped clean up the Cybermen on this side. He took over the Institute and set it up right, and then I went to work for them, and I guess 'the Boss' liked how I handled things, because last year he pulled out altogether to an unofficial overseer role and left me in charge."

While she was explaining, the lift had taken them smoothly up a couple dozen floors, and dinged them out into a sleek, if rather empty, lobby, with a few secured doors leading off in various directions. Only one door was marked, with a plain brass plate proclaiming "Torchwood Institute". Rose walked over to it and put her palm against the reader beside it; the reader gave a few R2D2-like beeps and the door whooshed smoothly open. She gestured for Corin to proceed her, and he stepped through the door, puzzled, then halted as he came face-to-face with a large, simple but arresting bronze plaque on the wall opposite the door; the only item in the bare white room.

Torchwood Institute  
Est. 1879

To protect and defend  
Mankind and the Earth

No conquests  
No casualties  
No sacrifices  
No compromises

Behind him, Rose said softly, "You like my plaque?"

He turned. "_Your_ plaque?"

"Yes. I had it made special." She came around to stand beside it, suddenly all business. "And _no one_ who wants to come work for me makes it one step past this room without impressing me that they understand every word. It's not an oath, or a promise. It's a statement of fact. This is how it is in _my_ Torchwood. Live it, or go home."

Eyes wide, he looked from her back to the plaque, reading the last words again. _No sacrifices, no compromises._ He nodded slowly, awestruck at the implications.

Suddenly she grinned at him. "You pass. Come on." Leading him to a side door he hadn't noticed before, they entered a spacious corporate-style front office, with several large modern modular workspaces off to the right cluttered with the usual files, papers, books, computers, copiers, etc. Rose waved a friendly hand at the cheerful greetings of the several occupants, and turned to the woman seated behind the front desk.

"Congratulations, Marcie, you get to be the first at Torchwood to meet my fiancé, Corin Gallifrey. Corin, this is Marcie, my right hand and arm, and probably leg; the rock upon which Torchwood stands, without whom none of us would ever get a single thing accomplished, and the world would come to a screeching halt – is that thick enough?"

Marcie smiled gaily, "That will do for this morning! But, Rose – fiancé?" The others from the office came swirling around, and Corin was introduced to all, sure he'd not remember any names other than Brennan, who came out of one of the attached private offices marked Assistant Director. Finally, Rose shooed them all away and took Corin into her own office, marked Director this time; a well-appointed affair quite as cluttered and obviously well-used as the outer offices. She waved him into a chair in front of the desk.

"Now you sit there out of range of the camera, and _be quiet_, while I lie my ass off to Lord Cutler."

"Oh, don't do that. I like your ass just the way it is."

She gave him a wicked grin, then pulled a strange, complex, miniature clockwork contraption off a nearby shelf and put it on her desk, flicking its tiny switch on. It was a busy little thing, full of gears and lights, with tiny beeps and whistles emanating from it, even a tiny puff of smoke.

"What in the world is that?"

She grinned again. "Distraction." Turning to her computer screen, she turned it slightly so he could see it – still out of camera range, though – and then punched up Lord Cutler's number. She leaned over the distraction and began poking at it with a tiny screwdriver while she got past the secretary, then looked up and smiled broadly at the sour-faced man who filled the screen. "Lord Cutler! Good morning! How's the spy business?"

Lord Cutler was not amused by her informal levity. "What can I do for you, Miss Tyler?"

She leaned towards the screen, conspiratorial. "I'm about to do something illegal, and I need your help."

He looked startled, then condescending. "And what illegal act could you possibly be contemplating?"

Gleefully: "I'm about to steal someone."

"You're into kidnapping now?"

She looked playfully puzzled. "Is it kidnapping if they come willingly? No, it's not that. There's a certain scientist I know of, working for... the competition, let's just say. He found himself in a place he hated, working on a project he abhored, for people he detested. The perfect trifecta. So I made him an offer he couldn't refuse..."

"And now you need help, ah, extracting him?"

"No, he's already here. What he needs, though, is a new identity. And that's where you come in. You have an ID branch, I don't."

Cutler had looked a bit disappointed that all she needed was ID, but then another thought visibly crossed his mind. He grinned wolfishly. "It's going to cost you."

"What could I possibly have that could interest you?"

The wolfish grin sharpened, in for the kill. "Your transporter device."

She looked genuinely puzzled, now. "My 'transporter device'? I don't have any such thing."

"Of course you do. It's how you got from your office to Bergen, Norway not three days ago."

Rose gave an audible gasp, jaw dropping. Cutler's triumph immediately slid into confusion, however, when she crowed with obvious delight, "Your man _lost_ me!" She gave a throaty laugh, channeling Annette Bening in _Valmont_ for all she was worth. "Oh, this is delicious! I gave your agent the slip, and now he's come up with this _ridiculous_ story to cover his rear. Oh, somebody's in trouble!" The last was a little singsong.

Cutler had been working up a full head of irritation. "Oh, don't be tiresome, Miss Tyler. You know perfectly well that _I_ know your Doctor Capella has been working on it for years. Don't deny it."

Still smiling, she waved dismissively. "Of course I don't deny it. What I do deny is that it's working." _Now that the walls have closed again,_ she added to herself.

"Doctor - "

She cut him off. "_Dottore_ Cappelini," pronouncing the Italian name perfectly, "has never sent so much as a Wonka bar across the room, let alone a human being from London to Norway." _No, he sent me across dimensions._ "However, he does spout off enough other brilliant ideas -" she gestured towards the distraction, which obligingly whistled and puffed. "- on a regular enough basis to make the maintenance on his little hobby well worth it."

"Now," she said, haring off on a tangent, "what's his name?"

Thoroughly confused, tearing his eyes from the distraction: "What? Who?"

"Your agent, the one who's been tailing me for the last six months. I want his name."

"I don't have - "

"Oh, don't be tiresome, Lord Cutler." She snapped, echoing him. She reached for a postcard-sized electronic photo frame on her desk and started clicking through the pics. "He's a meter seventy, eighty kilos, light brown hair – usually, and sometimes looks like... this." She had found the pic she wanted, and held it up to the camera. "Tell him from me he looks better with the mustache, but that fedora's simply _got_ to go. It practically _screams_ 'spy'." She dropped the frame and went on. "His name, Lord Cutler. I don't care if it's a code name, I'm just tired of calling him Shadow." She waited.

Cutler was bug-eyed with suppressed outrage. "Sykes." He finally growled.

Rose smiled sweetly at him again. "Thank you. Tell Sykes the next time he catches me at Torchwood North, I'll take him inside and give him the fifty-cent tour. Is that worth a passport and a birth certificate?"

Cutler punched – a little viciously – a button on his phone. When a male voice answered, he growled, "Charlie, I'm sending you a call from Miss Tyler at Torchwood. She needs some ID work." He punched the button again without waiting for Charlie's answer, then said gruffly, "Good day, Miss Tyler." and the punched his screen off.

Rose stabbed the hold button quickly before collapsing onto the desk with a gleeful howl. "Oh, GOD, that was fun!"

During the entire conversation, Corin's grin had been getting bigger and bigger, and now he was convulsed with laughter, as well. "You are bloody BRILLIANT!"

"And every word was the truth!"

"But won't it be a problem, showing the agent through Torchwood North?"

"Where?"

Corin howled again, realizing how thoroughly the 'Intel' chief had been routed.

Glancing again at the screen, Rose managed to calm down. "There's Charlie. Hush. Quick, now, can you manage just a hint of an off-world accent, something that'll drive them mental trying to figure it out?"

"Ah, no proble'!", he replied, gargling the R and losing the M.

She turned the vid phone back on send. "Charlie! How's my favorite forger?"

"I'm good, Miss Rose, but I do hope I'm the _only_ forger you know," said the curly-mopped redhead.

"Um, do I have to answer that?"

"Nope. Never ask a lady to lie. Now, what can I do for you?"

Rose sat Corin down in her seat so Charlie could capture a couple of pictures through the vid phone, removing his tie and ruffling his hair in between, then sat on the arm while Corin spelled out his new name, and they came up with the fake details of his birth. He glanced slyly at her as he gave his mother's name as "Donna Nobel Gallifrey", and she murmured "I am so going to kill you," but she was smiling as she said it, so he figured he was safe. To get him back, she gave his father's name as "Mickey Gallifrey", and he groaned.

When all was done, Charlie asked, "These will be ready in about an hour. Shall I send them over to your office?"

Rose replied, "No, we're leaving soon. By that time we should be at Barrons – top floor. Can you send them there?"

"No problem! And Miss Rose, next time you need something, dial me direct. Extension 53. No need to go through the 'old man'."

She thanked him sincerely, and they signed off. Rose began laughing again. "Did you see how he kept glancing at you every time you spoke? That was perfect! What kind of accent was that, anyway?"

He grinned. "Gallifreyan."

She spluttered appreciatively, then she playfully gave him a push. "Now give me my desk back so I can play Boss Lady. Give me just half an hour to put out any fires, and we're off."

He moved off and went to lean unobtrusively against the wall out of the way, as she tapped the intercom. "Marcie, Brennan, and anybody else out there: you have five minutes each."

Over the course of the next 35 minutes, Corin became more and more amazed at this incredible woman. She was in her element, obviously loving the administration – and also obviously, she was very, very good at it. She handled two minor crises; made a number of operating decisions, postponing two others until they could give her a full briefing; got updates on the status of major projects; and OK'd a personnel transfer and three purchase orders, juggling the budget a bit to allow them - all with the ease of a seasoned exec twice her age.

As the other supplicants left, Brennan leaned back in his chair and said, "That leaves just Project Seeker." He glanced around at Corin, then as movement at the doorway caught his eye, slid around and smiled. "Perfect timing."

Rose and Corin both followed his glance, then, "_Dottore!"_ cried Rose, jumping up from her chair and walking towards the elegant silver-haired, lab-becoated gentleman – that was obviously the only proper term – just entering the office, stretching out both hands to him. He took them, then kissed both her cheeks, continental style.

"_Bellissima_ Rosa! You have returned safely. I was worried Tuesday when the Cannon stopped giving any readings, but then I heard your father had flown to Norway to retrieve you."

"Yes. And Mum. What were you _thinking_, letting her come after me?" Mock exasperation.

"The wise man knows never to step between the tigress and her cub – even when the cub is a grown tigress herself." He smoothly changed the subject. "Mickey did not return with you?"

"No, he elected to stay in the other universe. But I did bring someone else." Turning, she led the _Dottore_ over to Corin. "Corin, this is _Dottore_ Marco Cappelini, the inventor of the Reality Cannon that sent me to you. _Dottore_, my fiancé, Corin Gallifrey, formerly known as the Doctor."

The two men shook hands, greeting each other. Then Corin, correctly taking Rose's revealing introduction of him as his cue that this man was to be trusted with the truth, explained again that he wasn't _the_ Doctor, but half-human clone created in a freak accident, original memories intact. _Interesting how that line is getting smoother and easier to say._

The _Dottore's_ eyebrows shot up. "_Affascinante!"_ he murmured. Then he peered at Rose and said, quietly, "Not quite the fish you went after, though, no?"

"No," she said proudly, putting her arm through Corin's, "but in the end, the much better catch." Without giving him time to react, she turned slightly, widening the circle to include Brennan still sitting in his chair before the desk, then returned to ask the _Dottore,_ "You said the Cannon stopped giving readings?"

"_Corretto._ As of Tuesday, _niente,_ nothing. Only the ghosts of our own universe."

"Well, then, that's that. The walls between realities are closed again." She sighed, clutching Corin's arm just a little tighter. "Project Seeker is officially over. Put the Cannon into monitor standby mode, make sure the alarms are set to alert us if the walls open again, and close the book. And, _Dottore..._" She reached her other hand towards him again, adding with quiet, sincere significance, "Thank you."

He took her hand, gave her a small, courtly bow, and released it again to turn and walk out of the office. Brennan gave her a small salute and followed, closing the door behind him and leaving the two to their thoughts.

After a moment, Corin and Rose turned to each other, and each smiled softly as they realized they were sharing the same images of doors closing. The office door. Doors between universes. Other doors, other places. A wooden blue door, fading away to nothing.

Leaving empty sand, and two shattered lives to rebuild.


	7. Aquamarine

**Aquamarine**

Rose and Corin stood in her office at Torchwood, gazing solemnly at each other, the click of a blue door closing echoing in both their minds. Wanting to change the subject, Corin sighed and said sorrowfully, "Well, I guess I have to face the inevitable." At her sympathetic, questioning look, he suddenly adopted a strangled, rising Dalek scream, "ShopPING!"

She screeched and threw up her hands in laughing horror. "Oh, god, no, don't! Don't _ever_ do that again, please!"

Spluttering laughter at her reaction – even better than he'd hoped for – he said, a bit insincerely, "Sorry!" Then, "Shall we, though?"

She looked sidelong at him, slyly. "Not quite yet. There's two more things I want to show you."

She took his hand again and led him out the door, through the outer office and over towards the staircase. They'd almost made it when Marcie stopped them, calling out, "Rose, it's your father!" and waving the telephone handset at her.

"Dad!" she cried, taking the phone. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Easy," came the reply. "My spies downstairs told me."

"Hmmm. I'm going to _have_ to talk to security..."

"Won't do you any good, sweetheart. They work for me, not you."

"Hmmmph."

"Anyway, I'm calling to ask if you and Corin would like to meet me for lunch, since you're here."

"Actually, we're on our way out the door to go shopping."

"Good, cause I'm on my way to a meeting. The invitation reads one pm."

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 10:30. She looked at Corin. "Lunch with dad after we shop?" He nodded OK. "All right then, see you at one!"

They made it to the stairs that time, and began descending. Corin gave in to his curiosity: "Do you always do what Pete asks?"

She stopped on the landing, and faced him, thoughtfully. "When I first got here, it was tough - for both of us. We were related, but we weren't - and neither of us was used to the other being around. But after a while... we worked it out. He _feels_ like my Dad now. And he's a _good_ man - honorable, smart... - and he's never tried to boss me around. So, yeah, on the occasions that he does make a request, or a suggestion, I _do_ generally do what he asks."

Corin nodded, satisfied and a bit impressed in spite of himself, and they continued on, down two flights, then out into a long hallway. Down to the other end, passing a number of windowed doors opening onto busy labs and quieter offices, then through another set of double doors, Rose opening them with a flourish, then turning and sweeping him in.

It took Corin a moment, but then he recognized the room. Once, in another universe, it had been the control room for an experiment in offworld energy gone horribly, terribly wrong. If he closed his eyes, he would see the flow of flickering power, Daleks and Cybermen flying past, see his beloved slipping in slow motion from her control lever, away from him forever.

He kept his eyes wide open.

Not that he needed help doing so.

In _this_ universe, it was an adult playroom. Eyes wide with delight, he took in a pool table, a table-tennis covering for it leaning against the wall, video game consoles, pinball machines, snack and soda dispensers, and scattered tables and chairs. And at the far end, the Wall – that horrible, monstrous, dementedly blank Wall that haunted his nightmares – was instead a riot of color, splashes and splotches and cartoons and graffiti in every hue and shade. He turned to Rose with a huge, wondrous grin splitting his face.

"I told you the memories had been painted over," she laughed. "You didn't know I meant it literally." She led him down to that end and showed him a rack of paintball guns with boxes of pellets in every neon shade, and then opened a cabinet stuffed with spray paint cans. "Feeling creative?"

He grabbed a can marked Candy Apple Red and selected a relatively unscribbled section. Carefully shielding what he was doing from Rose's prying eyes, he took a few quick swipes at the wall, leaned back a bit to admire his handiwork, then took a couple more. Then he turned, staying carefully in her line of sight, goofy grin daring her to ask.

She laughed, walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist, peering over his shoulder. He'd painted:

CG  
RT

surrounded by a sloppy, dribbling heart. Eyes unexpectedly stinging, she gave him his prize. He turned in her arms to make it more, but she laughed again and danced away, saying "Not yet! There's still one more stop to make!" Wondering what else could possibly be in store, he put the can of paint back in the cabinet and followed her out the door. Back to the stairs and down one more flight, this one double; the next floor was two standard stories high. The attendant hallway showed only a few doors, each of these giving onto large storage rooms crammed with boxes and crates, reminiscent of the other Torchwood's warehouse. Which it was.

Rose opened one of the doors on the right, entering the largest room yet. Numerous workbenches were spread about among the crates, alien gadgets and machines in various states of torn apart strewn across them. Corin fairly itched to wander about and start tinkering, but managed to stay in the clear space near the door, hands jammed in pockets to keep them out of trouble.

Rose gestured around the room, and sprang the plan she'd made that morning while he slept. "Will this do?"

"Do for what?"

"Your workshop. Your lab. Your TARDIS-growing lab. I figured you'd probably need non-Earth materials and technology, so in addition to all this, you'll also get first dibs on any new stuff that comes in the..." That was as far as she got, because Corin swept her up and around and around, kissing her soundly.

When they finally came to a stop, she smiled dizzily up at him. "I take it that's a yes, then?"

He tried to act undecided, teasing her, "Well, I don't know..." but couldn't keep it up. "Oh, hell, yes, woman. It's perfect. Thank you, Madame Director Boss Lady Ma'am."

"You're very welcome, sir." They smiled tenderly at each other for a moment, then Corin made to dive into the pile of dohickeys and thingamabobs. Rose held him back, laughing. "Oh, no you don't! Not yet! Shopping first!"

"But-!"

"Shopping _first_, I said, then lunch with Dad, then as soon as that's done, we'll come back and you can spend the rest of the day tinkering to your heart's delight. I promise."

He sighed heavily. "Woman, you drive a hard bargain. Get on with it, then."

^..^

Clothes shopping with Rose wasn't as torturous as he thought it would be. Barrons proved to be an upscale, multi-level department store nearby; top floor: men's suits. Taken under the wing of a Mr. Atherton, Head Departmental Clerk, as soon as they arrived, Corin was whisked off to a spacious dressing room and measured in every direction before he could protest. Mr. Atherton's discerning eye then proclaimed him to be the perfect model for the wares of a certain well-known designer, and he proceeded to prove himself correct. The very first suit – a grey pinstripe – that Corin tried on fit him to a T, and won Rose's enthusiastic endorsement. Before he could say Boo, four more suits in the same line in various pinstripey colors had been hung up on the collection rack, and Mr. Atherton's busy assistant had gathered four coordinating shirts for each suit for him and Rose to select from.

"Just toss them all in," she said, and went off to pick out a large handful of ties, asking Mr. Atherton over her shoulder to next outfit her intended with a sharp tux. "Black tie," she answered his query. Corin soon found himself strutting self-consciously before Rose wearing the fanciest duds he'd had on since they had joined the serving staff at Pete's mansion. She whistled appreciatively, then showed him her prize: an ankle-length overcoat, medium brown. He almost cried.

After everything was rung up (the package of ID's arriving by messenger at the same time as the total), Rose commissioned Mr. Atherton to send the parcels to the flat, including Corin's old suit – he electing to wear the grey pinstripe out the door. Going down the escalator, Rose pointedly glanced at the large clock on the center pillar. Only one hour of her allotted two had been used.

Next floor down was casual men's clothing. Here, Rose really swung into action. Grabbing a trolley from the row by the escalators, she turned to Corin in the aisle and asked, "Jeans or khaki's?"

"Pardon?" he asked, being unfamiliar with either term.

She gestured to one side, then the other, where piles of blue dungarees and then racks of casual slacks were on display. "Jeans, or khaki's?"

"Oh. Khaki's, please."

Before he could sneeze twice, she'd found a style of slacks she thought would look good on him and selected one in his size (she'd carefully noted all his numbers upstairs), then a polo shirt, and pointed him towards the dressing room, promising to only make him try on just one set to check the fit. Again, to his surprise, they were actually rather comfortable. Reporting so back to Rose, she quickly grabbed three more slacks and five more shirts.

Then she towed him over to the shoe department. There, he rebelled. "Oh, no, no, no, no! You are NOT getting me into any of those ugly stiff leather torture devices! I like my trainers JUST FINE, thank you!"

"Good!" she said sweetly, surprising him yet again. "Then you can go pick out three more pairs of them. Then STAY THERE till I get back. I'm going to dash around the floor picking up odds and ends. Be back in fifteen minutes!" and she was off.

Wheeling her trolley back into the shoe department thirteen minutes later, she found him chatting up the salesgirl, who was entirely too interested for Rose's comfort, so she had the girl ring up her entire trolley of goodies – pajamas, dressing robe, belts, a wallet, socks, and handkerchiefs had all been piled on top of the slacks and shirts – as well as his three new pairs of trainers. When the damage was announced and paid, Rose again had the parcels sent to the flat, and she and Corin walked out the front door one hour and forty-nine minutes after walking in. "Am I good or am I good?" she smirked.

^..^

Back at One Canada Square, Rose and Corin again took the private elevator, this time up to the PTI floor, which proved to be at the top. Of course. They walked through the outer office, waved on by the secretary, and into Pete's glass aerie. He was leaning against the front of his desk, talking on the vid phone. Turning as they entered, he waved them forward and started to turn back to the phone, still conversing, then stopped and watched Rose come up to him. He managed to end the conversation and punch off the phone, then turned back and said with a huge, satisfied smile, "That's better."

"What, Corin's new clothes?" He hadn't been looking at Corin.

"No, you. I have literally _never_ seen you look this happy." He kissed her cheek. "I may even have to forgive you," he added to Corin, only half joking.

Lunch with Pete in the executive dining room at the top of the skyscraper was a light, happy hour spent chatting about inconsequentials. After the goodbyes, Pete extracting another promise on Jackie's behalf for Sunday dinner, the couple descended again to Corin's new lab, and he began to gleefully explore his new domain. Rose just sat and watched, contentedly listening to his excited chatter. _I could really really get used to this._

She knew, and knew he knew, that she had basically been showing off for him all day. _This is what I've become. This is what our life could be like. It's not so bad, is it?_ Hoping he'd agree, yet knowing also that if he didn't, if he wanted instead to sail off around the world, or join the Peace Corps - or the lunar colony the ESA was just beginning to plan - that she'd be right there beside him. She sighed, content just to be in the moment.

^..^

There was one more surprise in store that day, this time for Rose. Corin had his head deep inside a Talarian ship's vertellian impeller – at least she thought that's what he called it – and was hammering about trying to wrench a piece off. She stuck her head in the upper end and lent a hand, saying ruefully, "Too bad you don't still have your sonic screwdriver."

Corin looked up at her from flat on his back and grinned. He slowly reached into his jacket pocket, and ever so slowly pulled out... a sonic screwdriver. Her jaw dropped. "No! I do not _believe_ it! What did you do, pick his pocket?"

"Nope. It was – a spare." It had been River's. _River. I guess that's one mystery __I'll__ never solve._ "Packed away in a storage compartment. I pulled it out to put together that weapon I tried to use on Davros, and just stuck it in my pocket afterwards. Completely forgot about it till now." He'd managed to absent-mindedly slip it from his old suit into his new pocket without her seeing it, or it really registering on his own consciousness. He clicked up a number and went back to work on the reluctant part.

Peering down at him through the metal, watching him work his beloved tool, alien oil from somewhere smeared unnoticed on his cheek, Rose was struck by a weird, echoing sense of _déjà vu_. How many times had she peered down at him like this, puttering happily around in the bowels of the TARDIS? (_ CLANK-rattle-clinkety-clink_ echoed dimly in her memory.)

She smiled and ducked her head to wipe away a tear. The movement caught Corin's eye, and he paused, watching. Then he reached up through the metal, and she reached down to take his hand.

A moment of unspoken, perfect communion, and he went back to work, whistling.


	8. Spring Green

**Spring Green**

A few evenings later, Corin and Rose were relaxing in the flat after a day spent puttering in the lab and hashing out the parameters and budget of _Dottore_ Cappelini's new project, respectively. They'd been chattering away about their days, last Sunday's dinner, baby brother Tony, news on the telly, life. Old friends.

After a comfortable silence, Rose turned to Corin and asked, "Well? Have you had enough time to remember?"

"Sorry? Remember what?"

"Gallifreyan weddings."

"Ah. How did you know I was thinking about that today?" He gave her a strange look. "Are you reading my mind or something?"

She spluttered. "If I were, I wouldn't have to ask, would I?"

"I suppose not." He continued to eye her oddly for a moment, but then shrugged and went on. "Well, to begin with, there aren't any churches, or ministers, or anybody officiating. The two people leave their homes with their families and friends and walk through the town to where they planned to meet – some place that's special to them, some beautiful spot; perhaps in front of their house if they've built a new one. I told you about the garlands, yes? Flowers and leaves? She brings his and he brings hers, and the first thing is to crown each other with them.

"Then they each... say their piece. It's not as scripted as human-style weddings I've seen; there aren't any formal vows, though there is something of a formula they may or may not use. Except for the Danae-D'Herada. Somewhere it became Tradition for a couple to recite that together."

"The what?"

"The Danae-D'Herada. It's an old Gallifreyan poem that talks about opposites and how they combine to make a whole. I've tried to translate it to English before, but it just doesn't work. The best one could do would be just take the concept and start fresh."

"That sounds lovely. I'd really love to bring some of that into our wedding. We could easily write our own vows. What was that formula?"

"Well... it's really... it's not... oh, hell." He broke off with an uncharacteristic oath, and leaned forward on the edge of the couch, face in his hands, elbows on knees, radiating tension and sadness.

Rose, surprised, let him be. _He was married before. Maybe this is bringing back too many memories._ After a bit she put her hand on his shoulder, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, then, quietly: "No, _I'm_ sorry. I'm... I'm lying. By omission."

Startled, she decided to skip the obvious and go for the important: "Why?"

Deep breath. "What else? Fear." She waited. "Fear of losing you, by wanting too much, asking for more than you can give."

"Because I'm not a Time Lord?"

"Yes."

She waited a bit, then: "Corin. Please talk to me. Let me in. At least let me know what it is that's missing for you, and let me be in on seeing if I can give it or not. Stop making decisions for me."

That got him. He leaned back again, slumping down so he was half-lying on the cushion, head propped on the low back of the couch. He stared at the fireplace, empty in the summer heat, and sighed. "What I've just described isn't a wedding in the human sense. It's not the official beginning of a marriage. It's the public announcement and celebration of what has already begun in private: a Time Lord life bond."

After a few beats she prompted, "A life bond?"

"It's a telepathic connection. Lifelong, unbreakable save by death or regeneration. Even if the two are in different time periods, there's still a ghost of a presence, because their personal timelines remain in sync."

"Can you still...?"

It took him a moment. "Feel her? No. She died a long long time ago both in universal time and in my personal timeline, in the First Dalek War."

Oh. _So it's not that he's still in mourning. I think._ She chose her words carefully. "What is it, exactly, that you think is too much for me? That I wouldn't be able to make the bond, because I'm not telepathic?"

"No, I'd be able to do that myself. It's... having me in your head. Please don't take this wrong, I'm not putting _you_ down. It's just that most of the time, when someone who is telepathic links to someone who isn't, whose species isn't even, that person... freaks out."

"But you've been in my mind before. When you took the Vortex out."

"But do you remember it? Really remember how it felt?"

She thought. "Um, no."

He nodded. "Even if you did, it wouldn't be the same. The Vortex would have... helped."

"Well, it seems to me there's only one answer here: test it and see. Link to my mind – temporarily – and see if I freak out. I trust you."

He gave her a long, speculative look, considering. Then he took her hand again, and said "All right. But hold on. Table that for a bit. Because there's more."

_More?_ She waited.

He turned back to his absent-minded study of the fireplace and took another deep breath. "The telepathic link is what comes after – what it settles down into. When the bond is first created... it's very intense. It's called the LifeDreaming. They almost literally dream each other's lives. For several hours in the real world, they have full access to each other's memories. You'd see everything. And so would I. We'd know each other completely, from the inside, everything we'd ever done or thought or dreamed, good or ugly, fantastic or... evil.

"I don't know if I'm prepared to have you know everything I've done. I don't know... You might never be able to even look at me again. But we'd be stuck then. It's unbreakable, like I said. People – others that Time Lords have tried to bond with – have gone mad from it." _Like Lucy Saxon. Then again, though, her bondmate wasn't too sane to begin with._

"Ooooooh. That... doesn't sound like a lot of fun."

"Ah, no." He turned to look at her finally, and brought her hand up to kiss it. "Not everyone has, though. There _have_ been successful life bonds between Time Lords and others. Even humans, if I remember right."

Rose slumped down sideways to put her head on his shoulder, and together they turned back to the fireplace. "Well, I'm glad my species isn't a total loss."

He smiled. "Far from it, Rose Tyler."

After some consideration, she asked, "Is that all of what's bothering you? Or is there more that you're not telling me?"

"No, that's all."

Silence for a time, then, "Hold on. You're over nine hundred years old! Reliving all that, even at dream speed, would take more years than I've got left!"

He laughed. "Well, it's not like reliving every second. Think back on your own life. Can you remember every second? Or just... the highlight reel?"

"The highlight reel, of course. But even that has a lot of moments." A beat. "Isn't there _any_ way to control it? A way for you to just show me what you want me to see, or for me to choose what I want to see?"

"I don't know, Rose. I... just don't know."

They sat for several minutes, contemplating. Then Rose sat up again and turned to face him, tucking one leg under herself and stretching the other across his lap. "One thing at a time. I'd still like to try a temporary link, to see what that's like. 'Cause.. I don't know why, but I really think I'd like it." She thought a moment. "Maybe if only because I know you want it, so it must be... wonderful. When it works." She smiled.

He pulled himself up, grabbing her leg and keeping it on his lap, caressing it, then reaching with the other hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Oh, it is. The closeness is …. the sweetest thing I can think of."

"Well, then..."

He looked at her a moment longer, then put his hands on either side of her face, cupping it gently. Beginning to reach out, he stopped and told her, as he had Reinette, "If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door, and close it. I'll do the same. And I promise you this: as long as I'm in control of myself, I will _never_ open a door that you've closed." Thinking of Reinette, he hurriedly closed that door, too. "Let's keep this to... the times we shared, traveling together. No ancient history – for either of us."

"Agreed. OK."

And suddenly, there he was, a presence in her mind, warm and somehow sparkling. It was like being immersed in champagne; each tiny bubble a picture, or a sound, or a flavor – and she knew they were scraps of memories, his or hers she wasn't sure. Then scenes from her own life were flipping past, too fast to catch fully, as though he were flipping through her mental rolodex, looking for a particular memory. And then he found it, and, laughing – both physically under her hands resting on his chest, and in her mind, a flow of cool, pepperminty sparkles – brought it out.

_She was a passive, captive onlooker in her own mind, her own body; Cassandra in control. 'They' walked out of the lift, and found the Doctor standing by a curtained alcove. Rose couldn't keep up with the banter, she was struggling to retake control, when suddenly Cassandra grabbed the Doctor – and snogged him! The longest five seconds of Rose's life, she was embarrassed, humiliated – and extremely turned on. *So that's what I've been missing...*_

Somehow managing to stop the mental playback, Rose reacted swiftly. *_OK, you, two can play this game.*_ Without knowing how she did it, or how she knew which one it was – perhaps simply by proximity – she reached for his matching memory and pulled.

_He turned and saw Rose walk out of the lift, and then did a double-take. Where had that sexy prowl come from? Only part of his mind on what he was telling her about the patients, he couldn't keep the rest off her pronounced curves, until suddenly she turned – and snogged him! *This isn't Rose. This isn't Rose! Oh, who cares?*_ _And he snogged her back, enthusiastically. As she broke and stepped back, he muttered to himself, *Yup. Still got it.*_

This time, _he_ stopped it, and they grinned at each other with delight for their remembered reactions. *_I did like that walk*_ he thought at her, and she made a mental note to try something out later.

He laughed again and reached for another memory, this time of her dancing in midair over wartime London with Captain Jack Harkness, and she retaliated with him refusing to let Jack cut in on their dancing when they snatched him from his ship moments before it exploded. Thoroughly enjoying the experience, they both relaxed into the couch and skipped from memory to happy memory, revealing their previously-hidden thoughts and reactions.

_Another narrow escape. Utterly exhausted, she fell into her bunk on the TARDIS, and he leaned over to tuck her in – rather farther than necessary for the job. A LOT farther. *He's going to kiss me!* And then..._

Without warning, another memory came flashing out from deep within her, burning across his senses. _On her back, head jammed painfully into the crack by the car door. Dead weight on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs. Stinking garlicky alcohol breath in her face. Blind unthinking panic and outrage as her legs were wrenched apart._

Just as suddenly, the images were gone – and so was she, out of his mind and out of his arms, as she tore herself free of both and flung herself back into the corner of the couch, gasping for breath. Heads spinning, senses whirling, they each fought to bring themselves back under control. Corin was staring wildly at Rose huddled in the corner, face buried in her hands. She managed to speak first.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know how that slipped out. I never _ever_ meant for you to see that."

He boggled at her, utterly stunned. All he could manage was a hoarse whisper. "Rose... you were _raped?"_

She looked at him, then, taking a deep breath and dropping her hands to her lap, much more calmly than he would have credited. "No. I was _almost_ raped. He didn't... he was stopped. Some guy came by and stopped it in time."

Corin found his fists were clenched, rage flooding through him. "Who was it?" _Somebody at Torchwood? Some creep here in London?_ Vague splinters of impulse flashed through his mind, of finding said creep and inflicting major bodily damage.

But Rose, not needing telepathy to read his face, was shaking her head. "No, no, no. Corin, it happened _years_ ago, long before we ever even met. I was sixteen. It's OK. I'm OK. I've been OK for a long time." She reached over and took his hand, wrapping it in both of hers, trying to warm and unclench it. "It's ancient history." She grimaced. "I guess I've got a lot to learn about controlling my thoughts."

Corin shook his head. "You may be OK, but I'm not." His head continued shaking. "What happened? Please tell me. Or else I'm going to just be obsessing over it."

She took a deep breath. "OK." She moved back closer to him, cuddling up against his side, making him relax back into the couch again. "His name was Ronald. A guy I knew from the neighborhood, older than me by a couple of years. We'd been out a couple of times, nothing special. I wasn't that interested, just hanging out – it was long before Mickey and I started dating. Anyway, we'd gone out to catch a movie and dinner, and he'd had a couple of beers. He'd borrowed his Mum's car, and on the way back, he made a sudden turn into an alleyway and parked. He wanted to make out. I didn't want to, and told him so, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. And then he _really_ wasn't taking no for an answer. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

"All of a sudden, the car door was just ripped open behind him, and a man reached in and dragged him out, and …." She stopped cold, staring into space for several seconds, as she focused on the memory she'd locked away so long ago. "Oh. My. God. _Oh, my god._ OH MY GOD!"

"WHAT?"

She turned to him, face full of disbelief, half whispering in astonishment. "It was _Jack._"

A beat, then it hit him. "Harkness?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Oh, my god. Jack Harkness rescued me. He hauled Ronald out of the car, threw him up against the wall, and..." Her mouth twitched amusedly "... he beat the living crap out of him. Broke his arm and some ribs, I heard later."

Mind reeling, Corin flashed back to Jack, standing in the radiation-flooded chamber on Malcassairo, connecting the power couplings, telling the Doctor about reliving the twentieth century. "I went back to her estate, in the 90s, just once or twice. Watched her growing up. Never said hello, timelines and all that." _His eyes dropped. He was lying, but I didn't catch it. Well, I was a bit preoccupied._

Rose was still bemused. "Jack Harkness saved me from being raped. I'll be damned. And I never got the chance to thank him. I never saw him again after that night, until _we_ met him, and I didn't recognize him."

Corin, finally able to settle back again, pulled her close. "I think that was his way of thanking _you_, love. After all, it happened the other way around, for him."

They were silent for a long time, each mulling over the curious twists of fate, will, and time travel that kept pulling them back together with so many others. Finally, Corin, hating himself but compelled, hesitantly said, "Rose, I have a request. I'd... I'd very much like to know what happened on the Dalek Crucible before I came out of the TARDIS. If it's too painful, I understand, and I'll never bring it up again. But... _something_ happened there, something that changed everything, and I'd like to know what it was. If you're willing..."

Rose nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd like to know, too. I just don't understand how he could have changed so quickly." They were circling again around the awful wound in her heart, but she had to know, to understand, in order to be able to move on.

They moved apart slightly on the couch again, turning toward each other. Corin placed his hands on her cheeks, but before he reached out with his mind, he leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss. "I love you, so very much. Don't ever forget that. And I don't _ever_ want to cause you any pain. Please let me know if you want to stop."

She nodded gratefully. "I will."

Then he did reach out, and slid into her mind again. He didn't need to look for the memory, she had it ready. They each closed their eyes, reliving those crucial minutes, beginning with the aborted regeneration.

_-Falling into the Doctor's arms, finally together after three long, tormented years of separation.-_

_-Riding in the TARDIS to the Dalek Crucible, trying to figure out what was going on.-_

_-Walking out the door, Donna lagging behind.-_

_-Watching the TARDIS, with Donna, disappear, seemingly destroyed.-_

_-Jack dying.-_

_-Taken to the Vault, meeting Davros, and Dalek Caan.-_

Corin frowned, concentrating. The answer was here somewhere.

_-Dalek Caan, gloating insanely. "I have seen. At the time of ending. The Doctor's soul will be revealed."-_

_-The testing of the Reality Bomb. Davros gloating. "This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!"-_

_-The incoming calls from Martha and Jack. The thrill, now bitter, of Martha's recognition. "Oh my god. He found you!"-_

_-Davros again, gloating. "__The man who abhors violence. Never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor! You take ordinary people and fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time, transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this."-_

_-The Doctor, silent. Still. Exposed.-_

Corin gasped, a long, slow, hiss. He backed out of Rose's mind, not needing to see any more, and dropped his hands. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, bleakly. "That was it, wasn't it."

He nodded, staring into the distance above her head. In the lowest, most intense voice Rose had ever heard him use, he said, "That burned him to the _bone."_

He swiveled and slumped back, once more staring at the fireplace, and continued morosely. "And then _I_ came out, full of fury and murder, and wiped out the Daleks." He shook his head, slowly, and fell silent.

Rose waited, then: "I'm sorry. I.. I still don't really understand. Why...?" She trailed off, not really sure what she was asking.

Corin sighed. "I can sum up 'why' in one word. One name. The name he used... I used, during the First Dalek War. The name I wouldn't give you before." He suddenly got up, unable to sit still. He took the two steps over to the fireplace, then stopped, stretching his arms wide before placing them on the chest-high mantel, leaning against it. Staring at something far, far beyond the photos arranged there, he started slowly. "I fought in the War – everyone did. It was going badly. The Daleks had brought it to us, breaking through our defenses, attacking parts of Gallifrey itself." Long pause. "My squadron was decimated. We broke, and fled back to our homes. I ran for the house, hoping... I was too late. My wife..." He stopped, and the silence told Rose all she ever needed to know.

Finally, he went on, even more intense than before. "I went back to my ship. And I took it to them. I went hunting Daleks. I hunted them across the stars and rained fire from the skies upon them. I scorched them out of the Porterion nebula and through the Eye of Cassalon and right back to Skaro's surface – and everywhere I screamed my name into every mind that could hear it, wanting them to know who it was that was coming for them. And that name.. was -"

As before, when he had given her his true name, he didn't say it aloud, but put it directly into Rose's mind. He heard her slow gasp of horror and didn't turn, not wanting to see his fate in her eyes. _Well, that went well,_ came the sarcastic little voice inside. _The one thing you're most terrified of her finding out, the one memory you never wanted her to see – that's the one you up and tell her first._ Weary and heartsick beyond responding, he closed his eyes at last, head sagging, and waited for the ax to fall.

Rose, huddled in the corner of the couch, had drawn her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly and dropping her own head down on them, a tight little protective ball of cowering human. She heard – felt – the syllables of his warrior's name echoing through her mind again and again, bringing wave after wave of terror. _Annihilation. Utter Devastation. Fury as cold as the deepest reaches of space. Smoke and blood and bleak despair. Death Incarnate._

She didn't know how long she sat there, waiting till the echoes at last died away, and her frozen brain began to move again. And she started pushing back. Pushing that name, that image, back into the deepest past, where it belonged; far, far removed from any Doctor – any Corin – _she'd_ ever known. She began to shake her head, whispering "No... No..."

She raised her head at last, and suddenly uncurled from the couch and went to him, placing her hand on his arm. "Corin, no. He misjudged you. You're not that man, and you haven't been that man for a very very long time. _People change._ And you've had far, far longer than anyone else I ever heard of to do that changing." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I know you destroyed the Daleks at the Crucible. But you did it to save the universe. To save all of reality. Because you were right – if even one had survived, they would have continued the plan, and sooner or later, we would have been right back there, with the stars winking out." She shook her head. "Maybe this is simplistic; maybe I'm just a simple human being, a stupid ape. But I am sure of one thing. Some times, when evil threatens everything good, a good man – a _good_ man, Corin – has to take an evil action to protect what's right. That doesn't make him an evil man." She took another deep breath, and said again. "He misjudged you. You're not evil. You're not.." Unable to say the Gallifreyan syllables, unwilling to try, she settled for the Dalek's name for him. "You're not the Oncoming Storm."

Hardly daring to believe his ears, he turned at last to look at her, and found his redemption in her eyes. Sweet relief swept through him. She hadn't turned from him in disgust. She'd stayed at his side, believed in him, trusted him. Loved him.

He dropped his head to her shoulder and wept.


	9. Sea Green

**Sea Green**

Friday afternoon, Corin poked his head through Rose's open office door and knocked. She looked up from the Quarterly Confidential Report to the Crown she was reviewing and smiled, waving him in. He came up to her desk and leaned on it with both hands. "I've just had an epiphany."

Her face turned solicitous. "Did it hurt?"

He looked confused for a moment, then grimaced and chuckled. She pealed laughter, licking her finger and drawing a tally mark in the air – it wasn't often she tagged him; he was too quick-witted. "What was your epiphany?"

"Two things, actually. Whoa. Isn't it amazing how often I think in pairs? I'm always telling you 'two things'! Anyway... Two things. One, I think I may have given you a false impression about the nature of the life bond – the long-term. It's not like what we were doing the other day – that was more like what the LifeDreaming would be, only not as intense. Maybe halfway in between. No, the telepathic link isn't like that. It's... conversational telepathy. With deliberate intent. We could speak mind to mind whenever we wanted, but we wouldn't be constantly hearing each other's thoughts or pulling out memories or stuff like that. OK?"

She had leaned back in her chair while he was speaking, thoughtful. "Yes, OK. More than OK. You're right, what you thought I was thinking – that was just too much for all the time." She smiled up at him. "Two?"

"Two. I am such an idiot." He shook his head. "The only real knowledge I have of the LifeDreaming is my own experience. And I.. we were young. Very young. And inexperienced. We hadn't the knowledge or control that would come later." He grinned. "I've come rather a long way since then." A pause. "What I'm trying to say, not very well, is that I'm sure we could control the LifeDreaming the way we want to. I know I could, and I'm sure you could, as well – you have one of the strongest minds I've ever encountered. Bad Wolf proved that. Even though I had to take it away at the end. Few people of any species could have done what you did and survived at all."

"Even with the way that memory popped out?"

"Well, you're warned about that one now, and have it tucked back away again. Unless there's more bad memories that powerful?" She shook her head no. "Well, there you go. It's just a matter of closing doors, then."

Rose smiled slowly, eyes widening in wonder and excitement. She'd come to want the life bond, maybe as much as he did, even though their experiment the other day hadn't turned out quite the way either of them had hoped. It had still been the most wondrous thing she'd ever been a part of, and she wanted more. She got up and came around the desk and into his waiting arms.

They held each other close for a long moment, then Corin drew back to look into her eyes, his own dark and passionate. In a voice husky with emotion, he whispered the words he'd so long yearned to say: "Then, Rose Tyler, will you join your life with mine? Will you bond with me, mind and heart and soul, and walk with me through life?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized they must be the formal ritual words of a Time Lord life bond proposal. Not knowing if there was a ritual response, she merely said, "I will." Tears starting from both sets of eyes, their lips met in a long embrace of pure joy.

And then, of course, her phone rang.

Startled, they both drew back, and she sighed in exasperation. Corin laughed. "Go on, Boss Lady. I'll see you tonight at the flat. I've got some preparations to make." Realizing they hadn't exactly set a date, he simply asked, "Tonight?"

She understood, and nodded. "Tonight." Another shared joyous smile, another quick kiss, and then she returned to her chair, punching the button on her phone as she sat.

^..^

Rose opened the door of the flat that evening, to be met by a wave of heavenly aromas. Corin's "preparations" obviously included making use of his gourmet cooking skills, learned over the centuries on a hundred planets. The chef popped his head around the corner of the kitchen door, and said accusingly, "You're early. This won't be ready for another hour."

She decided to pout. "Don't I even get a hello kiss?"

Pique at her timing forgotten, he came fully around the corner and grinned, then playfully lunged at her and picked her up, twirling her around twice before suddenly pinning her to the back of the door, feet a good distance off the floor, and began kissing her soundly. And passionately. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began to reciprocate.

And the the kitchen timer dinged. Corin growled deep in his throat, then said, pulling his mouth just barely far enough from her neck to slip the words out, "I am _really_ beginning to hate bells."

"Mmmmmhmmm," she murmured back. "I know the feeling." Unwrapping her legs, she wiggled loose and pushed him towards the kitchen. "But I'm quite sure I don't want whatever that is to be ruined – it smells far too wonderful. Since I've got an hour, mind if I take a bath and stay out of your way?"

Corin nodded, resigned, then slid his sexiest, most lascivious smile onto his face. "But mark my place there, Miss Tyler. I'll be returning to it later."

Rose laughed a promise, walking through the bedroom door, and then stopped dead, gaping at more of his preparations. "What did you do, buy out an entire candle store?" Every surface was covered with tapers, towers, and votives, all in gleaming white. Corin's delighted laugh echoed from the kitchen. "You realize, of course," she continued, "it'll take you an hour to light all these."

"Oh ye of little faith!" came the chiding reply. "Just you wait and see."

Smiling, shaking her head at his romantic whimsy, she went on into the bathroom and drew a hot bubble bath while she undressed, then slid under the bubbles, sighing with delight. A minute or so later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Who is it?" she called playfully.

The door opened and Corin walked in, grinning, preceded by a small plate with a wine glass on it. "Your drink, madam."

"Oh, I knew there was something I loved about you!" She took the glass and sipped appreciatively – her favorite white wine. She kissed the "waiter" a tip.

Keeping his head close to hers, he grinned conspiratorially, then reached into his pocket and pulled out – his trusty sonic screwdriver. Sighting down it like a revolver, he swiveled and lit the half-dozen candles at the foot of the tub in one sweep, then, leaving her spluttering in laughter, he made his exit, flicking the switch as he passed and leaving her in candlelight.

^..^

Not quite an hour later, she came from the bedroom, refreshed and redressed in a silky lounge outfit. He sat her down at the dining table, lighting the candles there, and gave her another glass of wine – this time a Cabernet Sauvignon. Then he went back to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal.

Bringing it out a minute later, the mouthwatering aromas resolved themselves into a platter of Chateaubriand: beef tenderloin roasted to juicy perfection, surrounded by carrots and broccoli and roasted new potatoes, with a large gravy boat of bearnaise sauce for ladling, and the rest of the Cabernet.

"Ooooooooooooh," she sighed. "You are _definitely_ hired."

He grinned at her, then did a double-take. "What in the world...?" and leaned in for a closer look at the little red X she'd lipsticked onto her neck.

All minx: "Well, you _did_ say to mark your place, didn't you?" Laughing, she fended him off, saying "I'm _not_ wasting this fantastic meal after you slaved over it all day!" She breathed deeply, looking around at it all: the wonderful dinner, the perfect wine, the candles, even the music wafting from the stereo. "You are incredible. I'm overwhelmed," and he smiled that sexy, brilliant smile.

They did manage to finish most of the meal before romantic tension got the better of them. Rising, he drew her up, and began leading her back to the bedroom. A bit confused, she stopped and gestured towards the living room, instead. "Um, are you forgetting something?"

Eyes glowing, he replied huskily. "No. This is how it begins." Drawing her through the door, he paused, pulled out the sonic screwdriver again, and did a complete 360, lighting all the candles in one go.

Bubbling over with mirth, she came to him then, minx back, "Ah, you and that screwdriver. Where would you be without it?" And taking it from him, she held it a beat, and then tossed it over her shoulder without looking onto a chair.

"I'd be naked without it," he whispered, drawing her close again.

"Now, that sounds like a plan," she replied, and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

Moving slowly, drawing out every moment, they caressingly undressed each other, then moved without speaking onto the waiting bed. Then, as before, he placed his hands on either side of her beloved face, and gently reached for her mind.

His presence in her mind was stronger than before, glowing red with desire. She reached with her own mind for the glow, wanting to immerse herself in it. Their thoughts mingled and merged, and they became aware of both their bodies, each feeling not only their own but the other's as well. They returned to their caresses, giving and receiving in equal measure, equal pleasure, making love in every sense of the term.

Entwined and impaled, he paused, lifting his head above hers and searching deep in her eyes. He ran his hands along her arms, bringing them from around his neck, and took her hands in his, lacing fingers, and holding them out on the bed beside their heads. "Now," he said softly, and began to move with increasing passion, increasing urgency.

The mind-bending sensations, coming from both bodies at once, brought them quickly to the brink of release, their minds becoming more entangled with each stroke. Each part of their brains aligned and enmeshed, as if to mimic their outstretched arms and fingers. As they slipped together over the edge into twin climaxes, time dilated, each perfectly synchronized wave of ecstasy seeming to take minutes to build, hang, and slowly recede, each one gluing the strands of their minds closer together.

Finally, finally, after half a lifetime, the waves receded, and so did the world.

^..^

They wandered together through each other's pasts as if through an immense, never-ending fairy-tale castle, holding each other's presence close, sharing their lives. They came to closed doors, sometimes whole wings – and they respected those doors and moved on. They shared the moments that had changed them, moved them, made them who they were; moments of joy, fear, sadness, discovery, loneliness, love. They lived again through those ecstatic two years of traveling together, and he showed her what it was like to regenerate and find yourself in a whole new body, new teeth and all; and then they took each other through their years of separation and grief – and new-found, painful-at-first friendships, even some adventures.

– _Surfacing briefly, blearily together, they found him still sprawled atop her, and together rolled and shifted till they were side by side, facing each other. She shivered in the cooling room, and he reached down to bring up and tuck in the blanket, and they sank below the surface again. – _

She showed him her normal, boring, English childhood, growing up in the Powell Estate, and he showed her his lonely Gallifreyan childhood, growing up on the side of the mountain, far from anyone else. They shared images of their parents, warm and caring, or distant and demanding. She "met" the hermit that lived at the bottom of his hill, and he went with her to the first day of school, terrified, clutching her Mum's hand as though her life depended on it. She went on rare family holidays to the sea, and visited the Citadel, goggling with him at the city beneath the dome. He went on shopping sprees, school museum trips, and overnights with her mate Shereen, giggling the night through. They sat, bored to tears, through endless lessons at her school and his Academy, each of them staring out the window, watching sparrows and flutterwings, wanting to escape. She caught glimpses of another boy, arrogantly styling himself 'the Master', he and Corin circling each other warily, sometimes enemies, sometimes allies – never "friends". *_That didn't end well*_ he told her, and showed her the year he had spent in the cage on the Valiant, ending with the Master's death. She "held" him for a time while he grieved again for the loss of what could have been.

Then, she made a request. There was something in particular she wanted to see. *_I want to hear your true name, the first time you did.*_ So he turned, and whisked her to a room in their castle she hadn't seen before. _(*I do like this imagery of a castle*_ he told her. She was confused. *_Isn't it always like this?* _He "smiled"._ *No, this is your image – let it stand.*)_

– _His father had brought him the long miles from their estate to the Valley of the Untempered Schism, to stand before the gap in reality and gaze into the time vortex, his initiation into the Academy. He was half terrified, half excited – make that mostly terrified. He didn't want to leave his home and his parents to enter the Academy, and yet he did. Mostly, though, he was terrified of the gap before him._

*_Open your eyes, Corin.* His father's command ringing through his head, he had no choice but to look. And found wonder, and terror, in equal measure. He saw Time, as though it were a separate, incarnate Entity; the most irresistible of forces, marching inexorably through all of Creation, sweeping everything and everyone along. He saw empires rise and fall, saw unimaginably countless lives begin and end, each playing their tiny, atomic part in the whole. He saw the eddies swirling around fixed points, and knew instinctively that although other bits could be messed with, changed to suit a Time Lord's whim, that those points were absolute and unalterable._

_But others could be changed. He reached with his mind and seized a planetary wildfire, a holocaust sweeping an entire globe, and made it burn hotter, made the winds howl louder. He laughed, and then he heard different sounds in his mind, __sounds that seemed to echo through him, replaying what he had just done. He tried the syllables silently on his tongue, delighted in the response within. Knowing he had found his true name, he turned to his father and smiled, fear gone. *I'm ready*_ _he said. – _

She "smiled", realizing that the "something very young giggling with delight" that echoed in his true name had been Corin himself. And then she turned, and led him down another corridor, continuing on through their pasts, dreaming each other's lives.

^..^

Rose and Corin drifted slowly up through layers of consciousness and back to the real world, surfacing and opening their eyes at the same moment. Judging from the slanting sunlight on the walls of the bedroom, as well as the guttered candles, it was late the following afternoon. They lay still for several long moments, gazing at each other, wonder and love reflecting back and forth. They tasted each other's presence in their minds, a small, permanent, glowing yarnball of love and comfort, entangled in strands of their own consciousness.

_*I love you*_ she thought towards his presence, testing it.

_*I love you*_ came his swift reply. *_I always have. I always will.*_

And after another long, very long moment, they smiled and pulled themselves out of bed, using the bathroom, and puttering into the kitchen to throw a light supper together to satisfy their famished tummies, safe and content in the knowledge that, no matter the miles in between, they would never be parted again.


	10. GoldFlecked Moss

**Gold-Flecked Moss**

A month or so later, a September Saturday stolen from early June dawned bright and clear. The tabloids all proclaimed it a fairy-tale day, custom-made for a fairy-tale wedding: the union of the mysterious adopted daughter of the legendary Pete Tyler to her equally-mysterious fiancé, of whose existence prior to two months before no trace had ever been found. The paparazzi were circling in helicopters a good two miles away from the Tyler mansion, baffled that the machines refused to come any closer – Rose was taking rare advantage of her position by enforcing the temporary no-fly zone electronically, with the help of one of the _Dottore's_ little toys. _I really am going to have to give that to the Crown, now – Lord Cutler is going to be furious at my using it first. Well, I was __testing__ it, wasn't I?_

The mansion had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, and festooned everywhere with ribbons and blossoms of every kind, all white and pink, the colors of the day. The eighty-odd guests, all from Torchwood or Pete and Jackie's close friends, began arriving mid-morning, greeted by the Honorable Justice Harold Wright, one of the latter category, who – in addition to officiating at the ceremony – was acting as host for the day. Pete had abdicated his host duties in order to help Jake ride herd on Corin, who was doing his level best to put a new picture in the dictionary under "manic". Rose had been forced to block him out just after breakfast to keep his constant telepathic chatter from driving her mental, sending him a quick apology first on their private link. He understood, and didn't take it personally, letting Pete and Jake take him down to the basement gym and spar with him for a couple of hours before showering and donning his new tux for the ceremony.

Rose was sitting upstairs at the dressing table, finishing her makeup while Jackie put the final touches on her hair. "You mean you and Corin don't know what each other is going to say?" asked her Mum.

"No, we decided to keep our parts secret till we say them." It hadn't been easy, with the telepathic link, but they'd managed it. Corin had told her the "formula" used at the bonding celebration, and they'd each adapted and incorporated it into their vows. Neither had they told anyone else about the life bond, deciding to keep it to themselves.

Another secret _would_ soon be told, but not just yet. Rose smiled to herself, mentally cradling the memory. Just two evenings before, Corin had been lying with his head on her shoulder after making sweet love, when suddenly he raised his head and gave her a startled look, then moved down and placed his ear on her abdomen. A long, listening moment, then he had looked at her again with such tender, joyous astonishment that she hadn't needed telepathy to read his meaning. "A baby?" she'd whispered, incredulous. All he could do was nod his head.

She looked over at the bed, where his garland was laying on some tissue paper. They had made the garlands themselves the previous evening out in the garden, keeping them fresh in the fridge overnight. Hers, waiting in the room he was changing clothes in, was made from pink bougainvillea, Corin having declared that those flowers resembled one that grew everywhere on Gallifrey. His, of course, was braided from several green shoots from the huge weeping willow that grew by the pond. She smiled again, remembering the look of bittersweet nostalgia on his face the first time he'd seen the tree, moving to stand underneath it, drawing the long vines through his hands and gazing almost reverentially up into its crown. He'd stayed there for hours, lost in memory.

"There," said Jackie, several notes of satisfaction and pride echoing in her voice. Rose's hair had been done in the requested upsweep, just a few sprigs of baby's breath tucked in here and there, waiting for the bougainvillea crown.

"It's perfect, Mum." She got up and hugged Jackie, and they held each other close for several minutes. "Thank you. For everything. Now don't you start crying now! You'll ruin your makeup!"

Managing to hold back the tears, they moved to put on her gown. Eschewing tradition and current fashion both, they had had a skilled seamstress sew one of Rose's own elegantly simple design – white lace over rose-pink satin, with a deep V neck and a full, floor-length skirt flowing in clean lines from the high waist, with medieval-style trumpet sleeves of lace alone, hanging from her shoulders clear to her knees.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure everything was perfect, Rose caught her mother's questioning eyes and turned to her. "What?"

"I was just wondering... Now, don't be mad at me, darling, it's my job as your mother. Are you sure – really sure – that you're ready for this? That you're over... _him?_"

"The Doctor? Mum, Corin _is_ the Doctor – all the best parts of him. And more." She stopped, struggling to put into words what she had come to realize in her heart over the past two months. "His new human side made him... accessible. And mine. The alien part, the part I could never reach, never hold, never understand – that's the part that left. The best parts stayed. The best _man_ stayed, like I said on the plane. Yes, Mum, I'm sure. I'm more sure of Corin – of me and Corin – than I have ever been of anything."

^..^

At last the hour arrived. Judge Wright shepherded the guests out the back door onto the flower-bedecked terrace, bringing them into a deep informal circle standing around him in the sunshine, and then shooed two corridors open leading to either end of the house. Corin, with Pete and Jake trailing behind, came out a small door at one end, while Rose, with Jackie and Marcie, came out the other, and they walked towards each other to meet at the center before the Judge, garlands in hand.

The moment his eyes found his bride, all coherent thought left Corin. Never in his long life had he seen anything – anyone – more beautiful. He'd surprised himself with his reaction to this human ceremony; he would have thought all his focus would have been on the life bonding, and this little bit of flummery be inconsequential and annoying, but instead, he found it had taken on as much meaning to him as it did to any Earth man. "Knowing what's between us is one thing – one important, beautiful thing," she'd told him, and she was right. "Saying it to the world, and having the world recognize us as being together, legally and socially, is something altogether different. And I want both." And so, he found, did he.

Rose reached up and carefully placed his garland of willow leaves on his head, then brought her hands down slowly, caressing his cheeks along the way. Removing the mental block, she sent him a wave of love and tenderness. _My king, my love._

He returned both actions and thoughts, and then took both her hands in his, and stood simply staring at her, all the world forgotten, for several long moments – until Pete poked him in the ribs, and he came to, giving his head a quick shake. "Um. Words. English. Right." A ripple of laughter ran through the onlookers, as he shook his head again and tried to find the words he'd memorized.

Speaking only to her (though loud enough for all to hear), he began. "Rose, you and I alone know what each of us has been through just to get here. The day I lost you – I thought forever – part of me died. And for three long years, I was only half alive. Then, the night I turned and saw you again, at the other end of that street, smiling that supernova smile – " She gave it to him, then, and he said, quickly, "that's the one" to another ripple of laughter. " – that night I came to life again. And I swore, then and there, that I would never lose that feeling again. And I never will." Only Rose heard the slightest emphasis on that last "I", and she gave his hands a tiny squeeze. Squeezing back, he began the Gallifreyan formula, speaking the old familiar words in the new language, imbuing them with all the meaning his heart held. "Because my heart has chosen you as the companion of my life, and I here give notice to the Universe that from this day forth, we two are as one. I will match my step to yours, and walk beside you all my days, meeting joyfully all that this life brings, until the day I breathe my last, and with it, whisper your name to the stars."

A small sigh went though the watching crowd. Rose caught her breath, blinking back tears, and began, "Corin, I..." She stopped, floored by a rush of tangled emotions evoked by his words and the love he'd been sending to her along their link. On impulse, she jettisoned the careful vows of love and fidelity that she'd written, and simply answered him from her heart.

"I died that day, too – and the day on the beach, when all you could send was your image. And for three years I thought of nothing but somehow finding my way back to you. And when I finally did, when I saw you on that street, and my heart started beating again, I made the same promise that you did, that I would never lose you again. Never. And I never will. For my heart chose you a long time ago as the companion of my life. And I, too, give notice to the world that from this day forth, we two are one. I will stand beside you always, meeting all that life will bring, until the day I breathe my last, and with it, whisper your name."

And then, smiling through her tears, she took another breath, and began their rewritten Danae-D'Herada, and he answered, taking turns starting and finishing each couplet.

"One for joy"

"And one for sorrow  
One for today"

"And one for tomorrow  
One for laughter"

"And one for tears  
One for seconds"

"And one for years  
One for heat"

"And one for cold  
One for young"

"And one for old  
One for reaping"

"And one for sowing  
One for feeling"

"And one for knowing  
One earth below"

"And one star above  
One for friendship"

"And one for love  
Without each other"

"There is none  
For one is two"

"And two are one." They said the last line together, and stood, smiling at each other, as if no one else existed in the Universe. And maybe, for just the tiniest instant, no one did.

A louder ripple of sighs and aww's and scattered bits of applause came from their circle of friends, reminding them that they weren't alone, after all. After another moment, they both turned and looked towards Judge Wright, standing by. He looked concernedly back and forth at them for a few beats, then asked Corin, "You don't seriously expect me to top that, do you?", and everyone laughed.

"No," replied Corin, cheerfully. "Just the traditional vows, if you please."

"Whew!" said the Judge, pretending relief. "Then do you, Corin, take this woman, Rose, to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, comfort, and honor her always, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her for so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," came the reply.

"And do you, Rose, take this man, Corin, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, comfort, and honor him always, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him for so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Judge Wright took the rings from Pete's safekeeping, and handed the slender one to Corin, who placed it on Rose's left hand, and began to repeat: "With this ring, I thee wed, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until we are parted only by death." And Rose took Corin's wider ring from the Judge and placed it on his left hand, repeating the same vows.

"Corin and Rose, having pledged yourselves to one another by the exchange of rings, and the declaration of your sacred vows, in the presence of this company I now pronounce that you are husband and wife, and ask that you seal this joyful union with a kiss."

_Husband and wife._ The words rang in Rose's head, seeming to sum up all her struggle, all her pain, all her newfound joy and love and passion for this man that she had run so far, and fought so hard, to find. For it was, truly, Corin that she had sought. She came into his arms and met his lips with hers, telling him with her actions and her mind that she was truly, completely his.

And somewhere deep inside her heart, far beneath the surface, a wooden blue door closed forever.


	11. Epilogue One Midnight Blue

**Epilogue One**

**Midnight Blue**

Security for the wedding had been tightly managed by PTI's Security Chief, Mr Hamlin, causing him a huge pile of extra work, but one in which he reveled, rising to the challenge like he always did. He was determined that every detail would be perfect, that nothing would ruin the day for the Boss's daughter. Now, as the party moved from ceremony to celebration, and the deejay started a popular wedding song for the newlyweds' first dance, he thought perhaps everything might go smoothly after all.

_Don't let your guard down now!_ He told himself. _The party's just beginning!_

As the thought crossed his mind, one of the waiters hired for the occasion caught his eye. The man was standing perfectly still at the back of the encircling crowd, holding a tray of champagne glasses, watching the couple take the floor along with everyone else. Something about him, though, made Hamlin automatically file away a police description: slightly tall, medium build, athletic – a runner's body, piercing blue eyes, very curly short black hair, handsome, vaguely Gallic face. Hamlin began moving slowly around the perimeter of the circle towards him.

The song ended, but the groom held on to his bride's hand, signaling the deejay. He had a surprise planned. As Glen Miller's _In the Mood_ began to flow from the speakers, the bride's laughter pealed through the crowd, and she swung with her new husband into a spirited Charleston.

Hamlin, though, still had his eye on the waiter. The man's eyes had closed when the new song began, as if in deepest pain, then he had opened them again, gazing at the couple with such an expression of intense longing that Hamlin's internal alarms started clanging. He made his way faster through the crowd, which was now milling towards the dance floor at the couple's waved invitation to join in, losing sight of the waiter as he dodged people and tables. By the time he reached the spot, the waiter had disappeared, leaving the tray of glasses on a nearby table.

Hamlin searched, but the waiter was never found.


	12. Epilogue Two Dusty Rose

**Epilogue Two**

**Dusty Rose**

Throughout her long life, Lady Rose Tyler Gallifrey would pause during quiet times and reflect on those first days. She remembered each moment: of decision, of recognition, of acceptance, of release, with perfect clarity, stringing them together like a mental rosary. Each moment a tiny change in shade, contributing its bit to the sea change in her heart.

"Happy thoughts?"

Not knowing – or caring – whether he'd said the words in her ear or her mind, Rose opened her eyes and smiled up at her husband leaning over her chair. "Happy memories." She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, as unruly – and sexy – in silver as it had ever been in brown.

"All of them?" he asked.

"Happy? Of course not. But I wouldn't change a single thing."

**FIN**


	13. A Mysterious, Enticing Fog

_**Author's Note:** No, I'm not adding anything new here. I have just finished a round of tweaks and edits to this entire series, fixing errors and minor plot holes, so now I'm being a Very! Bad! Girl! and adding this new (empty) "chapter" to the first story in order to bump it up, for fresh eyes to read and enjoy. My apologies to established followers, if I've raised your hopes and dashed them again - but hey, isn't it time you re-read this series anyway? :D _


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